Friday Night Lights
by rog3r
Summary: A/U - Every day counts. One night matters.
1. One

_This story is written for the enjoyment of the author and its readers. This work of fiction is purely for non-profit reasons. Any resemblance to anyone, living or dead, is purely coincidence. All characters and events, save of my own creation, portrayed within are copyright of Square Enix, Inc._

This FanFiction is rated **T FOR TEEN. **It contains **STRONG ADULT LANGUAGE, ALCOHOL AND DRUG USE AND SEXUAL SITUATIONS. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.**

* * *

><p><strong>FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS<strong>  
>By Roger the Shrubber<p>

**I**

Monday. Early morning sunlight streamed through the half-closed blinds, falling across my face. I stirred, pushing myself up. My eyes fell across the old alarm clock by my bedside, the time, 6:29 a.m., burning into my retinas.

I lay still, staring at the clock, daring the number to change. After what seemed like an eternity, the number rolled over to 6:30. With a click, the radio broke the peaceful silence.

"_- and that's just the beginning. It's now 30 minutes after 6 o'clock, and we're about to pause a moment for station identification here on your official Dragon Sports Network."_

Damn.

With a heavy sigh, I pulled myself out of the comfy embrace of my bed, moving through my impeccably clean room slowly. I grabbed the towel off of its hook, and moved to the bathroom, rubbing sleep out of my eyes.

The worn, water stained knobs of his shower turned, squeaking with age, and hot water spilled out of the old showerhead, steaming up the small bathroom quickly. I dropped my shorts, hopping in the shower. I cursed as the warm water stung my exposed skin, turning down the heat of the water. I let my mind wander, going through my shower routine with an empty mind.

Wash, rinse, repeat. Just like the bottle says.

Ten minutes later, it was over. I cranked the knobs closed, long blonde hair hanging limply over my eyes. I pulled the towel into the shower, drying off quickly. I paused to admire myself in the mirror, water dripping off my muscular body. I flexed my abs, pumping my biceps as well.

Damn, I look good.

I left the bathroom, steam coming off of my body as I reentered my room. Returning the towel to its rightful place, I dressed quickly.

"_-high hopes for this season, and why wouldn't we? The Dragons are pretty much returning every starter from last year, and with QB Zack Fair at the helm, the Dragons are going to the team to beat in the state this year."_

A pair of boxers, followed quickly by my favorite pair of jeans. I reached into my closet, ripping the plastic off and unfolding a new T-shirt. It was black, but the red lettering on the chest stood out proudly. Nibelheim High Varsity Football. I reached into my closet, grabbing a heavy jacket out and pulling it on. I reached out, brushing non-existent dirt off of the state championship patches of my Letterman's jacket.

"_You've also got to give credit to Safer Sephiroth out on the right side. The kid's like a- like a vacuum, right? A safety blanket for Fair. Throw anything in his direction and he'll come down with it."_

I grabbed the large duffel bag sitting on the ground near my dresser, unzipping it and making sure everything was still inside. Pads, flak jacket, helmet, pants… check. Everything was still safely tucked away where I put it last night. The old zipper fought my every pull, making it difficult to zip up the bag. I grabbed my wallet and old cell phone off of his dresser and tucked them into his pockets.

"_I'm sure y'all have had enough of our speculation throughout the pre-season, but today is the first Friday of the season, and tonight, we will learn if Nibelheim is the real deal."_

I turned off the clock radio with a grunt, leaving my room in a hurry. In the opposite direction of the bathroom, the short hallway opened into a small kitchen. Worn appliances and a small table dominated the space. Dying flowers sat in a dry vase on the table. I turned my head, seeing a familiar shock of blonde hair barely above an armchair in the living room.

Before dealing with her, I moved across the kitchen smoothly, pulling open the old fridge in the same motion. The fridge was nearly empty, but I grabbed a Tupperware filled with scrambled eggs and scooping a few spoonfuls into a tortilla. The meager breakfast burrito was thrown into the microwave. As the small box hummed and heated the food, I reached into the cabinet above. Orange prescription vials met my eyes, a variety of different medicines I hadn't ever even heard of. Of course, until Mom was prescribed them.

I grabbed two, years of practice made them easy to find, and popped the tops off, dumping a few pills into my callused hand. I reached into the fridge again, grabbing a water bottle and dutifully opened the top and threw the small piece of plastic away.

"Mom," I said, approaching her chair softly. She stared at the old tube television, the screen dark. I closed my eyes, praying that it was one of her lighter episodes. She had on her faded orange sundress, her favorite, with a stained white apron over it.

I handed her the pills and water bottle. She looked up at him, her blue eyes matching mine.

She took them from my hand without a word, swallowing the pills and chasing them quickly with the water.

A honk echoed from outside. I stared through the faded white blinds, noticing a black Camaro idling on the curb.

"Gotta go," I muttered, giving mom a quick kiss on the cheek. "Your afternoon medicine is in the Tupperware with your lunch."

"When are you going to be home tonight?" she asked, her voice the same level and calm as mine, but nearly a whole octave higher.

"Not sure. Got school, practice and then work."

She nodded, knowingly, staring back at the dark TV.

"Make sure to lead your receivers. Throw the ball where only they can catch it."

"Yes, ma'am."

I grabbed my backpack and duffel bag, paused to turn on the TV, and exited the door through the squeaky front door. I walked across the dead lawn, passing a sign planted crookedly but prominently planted in the grass.

I tossed my duffel bag and backpack into the trunk of the '98 Camaro, before dropping into the passenger's seat.

"Home of number four, Cloud Strife, quarterback," my best friend Zack Fair read as I closed the door. "Gat-DAMN, do ya' ever get tired of reading that?"

"I know you don't," I stated dully, buckling in to the passenger's seat. Zack took off, tires screeching on the asphalt, heading down the road toward Nibelheim High School.

"Now, Cloud," Zack said, putting his aviator sunglasses on his face. "It's the first day of practice for the season. No more of that two-a-day shit in the heat. It's time to get down to the nitty gritty. Because this is our year, baby!"

"Yeah," I said dully, looking out the window. Zack grinned at me. "Aren't you worried about the pressure?"

"Pressure? Me?" Zack snorted, shifting into a higher gear. "I thrive under pressure, baby. That's why I'm such a good procrastinator."

"A couple of magazine covers and being named one of the top hundred high school players ain't a school project, Zack."

"Don't fret your spiky head over me, Cloud. Let me worry about all the hype and magazines and winning, and you just ride the bench to a State Championship behind the number one player in the nation."

I was silent, staring out the window.

"I'm just kidding, dude," Zack laughed, slapping me across the chest as he turned his radio up. That stung a little bit. Country music leaked out of the speakers. "Lighten up, man, you're killing my first day of school buzz."

He was too, kidding that is. That was the kind of guy Zack was. Although he acted like an arrogant asshole sometimes, and being as good as he was gave him more than the right to do so, he was genuinely a nice guy. And he was my best friend. But still, the words he spoke were true. Behind him, I doubt I would see any quality minutes this year.

I noticed her before Zack did, what with sulking and staring out the window. She was walking down the sidewalk, toward the school; her large purse slung over one shoulder. Brown hair cascaded down her back.

Damn.

She was curvy, beautiful. And her legs, goddamn, her legs! They went on forever! I'd hate to see her go but love to watch her leave, if you know what I mean.

Shit, I ain't seen her face yet, and I'm already salivating over this girl.

"What do we have here?" Zack muttered, noticing her, slowing down and pulling up alongside. She glanced into the car with her ruby eyes, a little bit of surprise on her face. Zack rolled down the window. I slouched in my seat, avoiding eye contact.

Okay, so I get a little nervous around the opposite sex. What?

"Excuse me! Are you heading to Nibelheim High?"

"Maybe," she responded, teasingly. Damn, her voice was silky and beautiful and… womanly. Not too girly or high pitched. And thank God she didn't sound like a man.

"Wonderful," Zack said, glancing at the road to make sure we were still clear. "Well, uh, we go to school there as well and we were wondering if you needed a ride."

She stopped, thinking about it for a moment. Say no. Please say no. I can't think of two words to say to this girl.

"Yeah, sure," she said, as Zack came to a complete stop. Dammit! I mean, yes! I mean… shit, I don't know. "Thanks! My car is still on its way here."

"No problemo," Zack said, looking at me. "Cloud?"

I unbuckled, pushing open the door and stepping outside, tipping the seat forward and climbing into the backseat. She shoved it back into its upright position and climbed in.

"I'm Zack, and this is my heterosexual life partner, Cloud."

"Hey," I said. Hey? That's all you can think of? You suck, Cloud.

She laughed, brushing a few strands of loose hair behind her ear and buckling in as Zack took off.

"Tifa," she said with a smile, shaking my hand. I stared at her, dumbfounded. "Tifa Lockhart."

"You new here, Tifa?" Zack asked, getting back to full speed and giving me a wink through his rearview mirror.

"Can you tell?"

"Well, Spiky and I have lived here our whole lives, so we kinda know everyone."

"Yeah," Tifa said. "Just moved here. We have the house up on Bahamut."

"Well, welcome to the backwater-ass town of Nibelheim. Ain't nothing here but high school football and the Tasty Freeze down the road," Zack said, turning down a street.

"Do you guys play football?"

"Absolutely!" Zack said with great bravado. "Your lovable quarterback right here!"

"What about you, Cloud?"

"… Quarterback."

There, two words. At least I got that far.

"Here we are!" Zack exclaimed, turning into the parking lot of the high school. The dumpy building was showing its age poorly, and in desperate need of a full-scale remodel. The stadium, on the other hand, was in better condition than most college football stadiums. New bleachers. New turf. New lights. It truly was the centerpiece of this small town, and they wanted everyone to know it.

Zack pulled his car into his usual spot, beneath the shade of the two apple trees that grew on the edge of the school grounds. A pair of cars were already waiting there. A smooth, silver truck and a black BMW. The owners of said vehicles were lounging against them, Letterman jackets on.

"Hey, Zack," Rufus Shinra called in greeting from the hood of his black sedan. The son and heir to the Shinra Oil Conglomorate, he came from money, and if you didn't know that, he would make sure you did shortly after talking to him. His shirt was tucked neatly into his True Religion jeans.

"Ready for school?" came the cool voice of Safer Sephiroth. His long, silver hair flowing down his back, two stray locks and framing his cold eyes and sharp face. Tifa tipped the seat forward, and I clambered ungracefully out of the back of the Camaro.

"Always, Seph," Zack laughed, pounding his fist with Rufus and giving Sephiroth a bro-hug. One arm over the shoulder, one under the armpit, two quick taps with a closed fist on the back. I remained silent, standing near the car.

A worn, busted pickup truck came screeching into a parking spot next to us, empty cans rattling around in the back. The doors to the cab were thrown open, and the owner of said car stepped out.

"What's up, douchebags?" Reno said, grinning around a lit cigarette he had clenched between his teeth. Long, lanky, with bright red hair, Reno looked every bit of the goofball that he was.

Zack motioned with his head for everyone to head up to the building.

Rufus took his Gucci sunglasses off and tossed them on the dashboard of his car. He didn't bother to lock it up. Everyone knew everyone in this small town. We all walked up to the entrance of the school, several students high fived Zack as he walked up, grinning at a story Reno was telling. I kept silent, walking beside Tifa.

We passed the threshold, entering the school. Students milled around, tossing books into lockers, catching up with their friends about their summers, all matter of conversation. Sephiroth faded into the crowd silently.

Zack took three steps into the hall, before he was swarmed by a small mob of people wearing cheap suits and carrying a variety of recording devices. Cameras flashed softly in the hallway.

"Zack! Zack! A few words for the local paper?"

"To hell with the local paper, KVII here, local NBC affiliate! Zack, got a moment?"

"See you at lunch?" Zack said, exasperated, turning to me. I nodded.

"Well, I gotta go to the office to get my locker and schedule," Tifa said, looking at me.

"Cloud can take you, right Cloud?" Reno said with a laugh, tossing his cigarettes in his locker.

Damn you.

"Uh… yeah, sure," I muttered, feeling heat rise into my cheeks.

"Awwww, little Cloud is blushing!"

"Shut up, Reno."

Fucker.

"We'll catch y'all later," Rufus grinned, heading with Reno down the hall.

"Your friends are… interesting," Tifa said, watching them go. I nodded.

"They're more Zack's friends," I admitted, scratching the back of my head. "Since I'm younger, I met all of them through him.

What? A well-articulated sentence from Cloud Strife? Maybe there's hope for me yet.

"You're a… junior?" she asked. I nodded. "Cool! Me too!"

"Cool," I echoed, mouth suddenly bone dry. "… Maybe we have some classes together?"

She laughed, and I motioned for her to follow me, feeling really stupid at my elongated pause between thoughts.

"Here it is," I said, standing in front of an impressive wall of windows. On the door, also made of glass, the word office was printed in bold lettering. "I gotta get to homeroom, now, but I'll see you later."

"Bye, Cloud," she smiled, causing me to turn red again. "See you."

She opened the door and disappeared inside the room, and I exhaled a breath I was unaware I was holding. Why did she make me so nervous? I started walking down the hall, head down, avoiding eye contact with everyone.

I had spent my whole life here, in Nibelheim, raised by my single mother. The man who sired me, I would not dare use the word father on him, had ditched out on her after he knocked her up.

Jackass.

Growing up, I had been fortunate enough for Zack to come to my rescue during a schoolyard scrap, instantly creating a friendship bond that continued through the years to high school. I met his friends, and they accepted me as one of their own, although I was younger and really, really shy.

But, unfortunately, that also meant living in Zack's shadow. And it was a big one. He was handsome, powerful, smart, athletic, popular, everything that every high schooler wanted to be. Not to brag, but I was a pretty good football player in my own right. But at this point, I was QB2, sitting behind Zack but ahead of Sephiroth, luckily. Well, luckily because he was simply a better receiver than quarterback.

Enter Tifa. Someone new, someone not from Nibelheim.

Someone I can start over with.

I paused in front of my locker, twisting the combination lock deftly, opening the metal box. I grabbed a worn math book out, shoving it into my backpack before shutting the locker. I glanced to my right, noticing my neighbor was at his locker as well.

"What's up, Rude?" I asked the running back. Shorter than me, but packed with thick, dense muscles, and a perfectly shaved head, Rude Richardson nodded in greeting, his varsity football t-shirt tight over his bulging biceps. The running back was a force on the field; playing with a smash-mouth, seek out contact style. But off the field, he was honestly the quietest man in all of Nibelheim.

"Mr. Strife!" a voice from behind jarred me out of my thoughts. I turned, seeing my homeroom teacher, Mr. Domino, standing with a cross look on his face.

Shit, I was late.

"Sorry," I muttered, entering the classroom and making my way to the back right corner of the room, like usual, and slouching in my seat. I glanced at the clock. 7:33 a.m..

Only six more hours until practice.

* * *

><p>I sat down at the table, at Zack's side, for lunch, setting my featureless paper bag on the table. I pulled out my lunch, a Wonderbread sandwich with bologna, and took a large bite out of it. Zack laughed as Sephiroth disgustedly pulled a large hair out of his slice of cafeteria pizza, before shoving the food away quickly.<p>

"Mr. Fair, is it true that you can throw three touchdowns to three receivers at the same time?" a young woman wearing a pink shirt asked, mocking an anchorman voice.

"Absolutely," Zack grinned, "And I can bench press two cars, while saving a burning bus full of orphaned babies!"

The girl dropped her tray on the table, sliding into the open seat next to Zack and giving him a quick kiss on the lips. Aerith Gainsborough; Zack's long time girlfriend. The daughter of the local florist, her and Zack were neighbors growing up and eventually started "dating" way back in elementary school. They've been together ever since.

"Tifa!" Aerith yelled, waving her hand to get the attention of the new girl. Unfortunately for her, this also allowed Zack to swipe her piece of chocolate cake, shoving it all in his mouth at once. "Over here!"

"How do you know Tifa?" I asked Aerith, as Tifa smiled and waved.

"You should know this by now, Cloud, I know everybody," Aerith smiled innocently.

Tifa made her way to the table, and I instantly became very interested in my sandwich. That was a fantastic piece of bologna.

Rufus smiled at her, schmoozing her with his pretty, rich boy looks. He gestured to the chair next to him, but she sat down next to me. My heart rate picked up instantly. Reno occupied the chair next to Rufus, burping loudly.

Zack tried talking, but all that managed to leak through the chocolate cake were a few grunting noises.

"How're you settling in?" Aerith translated. Tifa opened her mouth, but before she could answer Reno stood up, a wicked grin on his face.

"Tuesti!" he yelled, as a nervous, nerdy looking boy stopped walking through the lunchroom. "Reeve Tuesti!"

I sighed. People say high school is a zoo, and if it is, then the lunchroom is the damn monkey exhibit. Reno, buzzing heavily from the chewing tobacco that was tucked into his lip, was getting ready to verbally bash the nerdy Reeve. Zack got to his feet as well, a frown on his face. Reeve was balancing his lunch tray on top of a stack of books.

"Reno," Zack warned. Reno looked at Zack before sitting down heavily. Everyone was silent for a beat. Sephiroth laughed, a cold emotionless laugh that matched his icy eyes, and Reno cussed him out.

"So, Tifa," Zack asked, smiling again now that some bullying had been averted. "How are you settling in?"

* * *

><p>Sixth period.<p>

I was sitting in the back right corner of the class, my usual spot. The bell hadn't rung yet, and I was sitting in my chair, flipping through my playbook when the door opened. I halfway put my playbook away, expecting the teacher to come through.

But it was Tifa, she looked around the class, and all of the guys sitting there suddenly perked up. She made eye contact with me, smiled, and headed to the back of the classroom. She sat down next to me, pulling out a notebook and pen out of her purse.

"What?" she asked, smiling as she caught I was staring at her. I shook my head, turning to my playbook once more as the teacher walked in and started lecturing on God knows what.

I don't pay much attention in school, if you haven't noticed.

* * *

><p>"Strife!" Coach greeted as Zack exited the equipment room, game pads and helmet in his hands. "Quarterback… quarterback… Aha! Here it is!"<p>

I handed my practice pads and helmet to our head coach, as he gave me my official regular season ones. He also handed me my jersey, number four, and pants in both home and away colors. I nodded, turning around and sitting down in front of my locker, right next to Zack.

"So?" he asked, grinning, as he took his pants off and pulled on his Nike compression shorts, with built in thigh and hip pads, and a pair of mesh athletic shorts.

"So, what?"

"When are you gonna make a move on Tifa?"

What?

"What?" I asked, stripping down to my compression shorts as well and pulling my old girdle on.

"Come on, dude, you know I can't sweep her off her feet, I am already in a committed and loving relationship. And plus she was diggin' you," Zack said, pulling his shoulder pads over his head and buckling them in. "And there's no way in hell I'm gonna let Rufus snag her over you."

"Thanks, I guess."

"See ya out there," he said, grinning, pulling his practice jersey on over his pads and holding his helmet.

"What's your name?" Coach's voice echoed into the locker room. I turned, looking in and was surprised to see none other than Reeve Tuesti standing there.

"Reeve Tuesti, sir," he responded meekly. "I want to try out for the team."

"Well, son, you missed summer training camp, and as of now, we're mostly full up," Coach responded, looking at his clipboard. "What position you wanna go out for?"

"Wide receiver, sir."

"Well, we do have some extra pads," Coach handed Reeve his equipment, and he fumbled it around. "Suit up and we'll see if we have a spot for you on JV or special teams."

Reeve muttered a thank you, and stepped out of the room, running square into Reno and Rude.

"Holy shit, Tuesti," Reno snorted, reaching into his lip and throwing his chaw on the ground. "Get lost on your way to the math-lete practice?"

"N-no."

"This team is going down the shithole if we have nerds suiting up," Reno said to Rude, who shrugged, attaching a new dark visor to his facemask. The two left the locker room, as Reeve came and sat next to me, fumbling with his equipment. He shot me a smile that I didn't return, sighing and standing up, pulling my practice jersey over my pads.

I walked out of the locker room, out onto the field. My cleats ground against the concrete with each step. I made my way out of the tunnel, holding my helmet by its facemask loosely in my hand. I took the red mesh pinnie handed to me by the offensive coordinator, pulling it on over my jersey and moving to stretch with Zack.

I unbuckled the side of my chinstrap, pulling my helmet over my head and leaving it unbuckled.

"You forget your mouth-guard?" Zack asked me. I nodded. "Yeah, me too."

"At least we're not getting hit today."

Zack flipped me a football and I caught it, spinning the pigskin in my hands deftly until my fingers fell on the laces. I flipped it back to him; feet spread shoulder width apart as I reached down, stretching my hamstrings. After I popped up, Zack tossed me the football again.

Coach blew his whistle, calling us all over. Zack and I jogged over, taking a knee with the rest of the team.

"Alright, boys," Coach barked, his whistle around his neck. "This season is about to be a big one. The biggest of this school's career."

"Damn straight!" Reno yelled from the back.

"Not only are we the favorite to repeat as state champions," Coach said, as the team whooped and hollered. "We also have the biggest name in high school football under center for us."

People clapped Zack on the shoulder, hollering again. Zack wasn't smiling at all underneath his helmet.

"But, the good news for the rest of you, other than the fact that we are going to be unstoppable this season, it means there's going to be a shit-ton of college football scouts out here at every game and damn near every practice," people perked up at that. "So, if y'all want to get that scholarship for the next level, y'all gotta prove it."

Coach blew his whistle, and we fell into our positional groups for practice. Rude led the running backs, Rufus was busy with the defensive backs, Sephiroth and Reeve joined the receiving corps, and Zack and I bullshitted around with the football for a few more minutes. Reno was off running laps, cursing. They didn't really need a kicker at this point of the practice.

After an hour, Coach blew his whistle again, and we all lined up on the goal line.

"Time to see how summer camps paid off for you all," Coach grunted, as people took off one at a time, arms and legs pumping, for their forty-yard dash. First, Sephiroth had the lowest time, then Zack beat him by a few hundreds of a second.

"Tootsie!"

"Tuesti, sir," Reeve corrected through his facemask, as he got down in an athletic stance. Coach yelled go, and Reeve took off, zooming down the forty yards at an incredible speed. He stopped a few yards past the finish line, as the defensive coordinator stared at his stopwatch in shock.

"4… 4.29…"

Stunned silence. One didn't have to be a mind-reader to know what everyone on the team was thinking.

Holy shit, the nerd could run.

That was 2 tenths of a second better than both Zack and Sephiroth, who were highly regarded to be among the fastest in the entire state.

"Is that good?" Reeve asked, walking over to Zack. Zack nodded, dumbfounded.

"Strife!" Coach broke the silence. I stepped to the line.

"Go!"

I was slightly caught off guard and had a bad start, cursing slightly as I took off, legs churning, feet pounding into the turf. I leaned forward, crossing the finish line. I gulped in air, unaware that I was holding my breath the whole time. I turned, looking at the defensive coordinator, who was staring at his stopwatch again.

"4.3… 4.31."

I blinked.

That was insane. Nobody ran that fast in high school, hell, few people ran that fast in college football.

And I stumbled a bit at the beginning.

Zack came over to congratulate me, clapping me on the shoulder pads. I stared forward, not sure what to think or say.

* * *

><p>A few hours later, after practice and a shower, I was doing my nightly routine. That is, standing in front of a cash register at the Tasty Freeze. My white and red striped weird-shaped, half-beanie, you-only-see-this-thing-in-fast-food-restaurants hat sat awkwardly on my spiky hair. I handed the customer a large drink cup.<p>

"Cloud."

"Sorry, could you repeat it?" I asked Zack, who was sitting criss-cross applesauce on the side of the counter, playbook open in his lap, extra-large soda sitting next to him.

"Black-16."

"Black-16," I echoed, turning to the soft-serve machine to pump out some ice cream. "Uhhh… I-formation. Hand off… left?"

"Nope."

"Hand off right. Running back hits the three hole," I corrected. Zack nodded, and I handed the ice cream cone off to the kid at the counter. This is what my life entailed. Go to school, go to practice, go to work. Zack usually drives me to work, what with me having no car and all, and stays around, going over play calls with me. I'm sure we annoyed the hell out of the customers at the beginning, but they've gotten used to it by now.

My boss, Lilly, an overweight 30-year-old, slid a burger from the grill area to me. I put it on a tray with a carton of fries, handing it off to the customer.

"Red-22."

"Red-22," I put my head down, thinking. I was QB3, third string, last year, so I didn't even end up getting a complete playbook. "Um. Empty backfield, five wide…"

The door chimed and I looked up, my heart thumping wildly.

Tifa had walked in.

"Oh shit."

"You're doing good, man," Zack sipped his drink, still staring at his playbook. "Need a hint?"

"Hey, Cloud," she greeted, causing Zack to look up. "I didn't know you worked here."

"Yeah…" I muttered, as a younger boy and a middle-aged couple walked in and stood behind her. She caught my glance. Again. Dammit did she not notice anything?

"Oh, these are my parents," they both leaned forward and shook my hand. "And this is my brother, Denzel. This is Cloud."

Denzel greeted me with a head nod.

"Sup."

"Hi."

"Zack Fair," Zack grinned, shaking their hands. "We picked up your daughter on her walk to school today."

Zack made small talk with them for a moment, before the door chimed and another man walked in. He was tall, and built like a brick wall. I recognized him immediately. Johnny something. He played for Junon, the big city a few miles away.

"Damn, this place is harder to find than it should be," he said, crossing the restaurant and joining the Lockhart family. He clapped Mr. Lockhart on the shoulder and then…

Aw shit, no.

He reached down and kissed Tifa. Full on, on the lips.

Zack's usual grin fell of his face, and we both stared daggers at Johnny. He broke the kiss, looking at us with a stupid smile on his stupid face.

"Nice hat, boss… Hey, I know you guys."

"Zack."

"Cloud."

"Yeah, you two play for Nibelheim," he said, looking at Zack. "Well, you play at least. Saw you made the ESPN top 100 list. How's that working out for you, Fair?"

"It has its ups and downs."

"Cloud," Tifa said, breaking the tension. "This is my boyfriend, Johnny."

Boyfriend.

Douchebag.

I remained silent.

"Hey, chief," Johnny said, wrapping his arm around Tifa's waist. "Any way I can get my drink with no ice?"

"You have to order first."

Yeah, that showed him, Cloud.

Tifa's father ordered for all of them, his manner of elegant speaking matching his well-kept and well-dressed appearance. I punched it all into the worn cash register, keeping my head down and muttering back at him. He was convinced I got it right, paid me, and I gave him his change.

"Fucker," Zack muttered as they walked away and sat down at a booth.

"Empty backfield, shotgun formation. Four wide, ten yard slants. Ricky runs an eight-yard curl. Sephiroth runs a post," I grunted, turning to make their drinks. Zack blinked, surprised.

"Yeah, that's right."

* * *

><p><strong>NEXT TIME ON FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS:<strong> The town gets ready for it's first game, while the team gets ready for their first party. But Cloud has other things on his mind.


	2. Two

**II**

I dumped my math textbook in my locker, trading it out for my worn history one. The hallway was bustling with students, moving between each class. I shut the door, jumping as I was suddenly face-to-face with Zack, who was hiding behind the open door.

"Jesus, dude," I panted, trying to control my heart rate.

"It's Wednesday."

"And?" I turned, walking down the hallway as Zack fell in step beside me.

"And," he swung around, standing in front of me now, a frown on his face. "You're giving Tifa your jersey for Friday's game."

"What? No."

Our school had a tradition; Varsity football players wore their jerseys on Friday before games. Their alternate, either home or away, whatever one they weren't using, was given to their girl to wear for the game.

Tifa wasn't my girl. We were friends. Besides, she had her boyfriend and all.

"Yeah, but he's in Junon. She goes to school here," Zack replied. I wasn't aware I vocalized my thoughts. "Besides, if you don't make a move, Rufus'll give her his jersey. And then no one'll be wearing yours… again."

"I'm a back up, no one should wear my jersey."

"I think quiet guys have a thing for her," Zack's friend Scarlet said, coming up to us in the hallway, smiling slightly. She was a cheerleader, and since she couldn't act on her huge crush on Zack, she made her rounds through the group. Last I checked, she was on Sephiroth. "Rude's also planning on giving her his jersey. You should make the first move, Cloud."

I didn't respond. Zack nodded in agreement, high fiving a freshman who walked past him in the hallway.

"Come on, Cloud," Aerith sidled up beside Zack, clutching her notebooks to her chest. "At least invite her to Reno's party tonight."

I shrugged. Honestly, I figured she would have found her own way there. Half the town always heard Reno's parties, either before they happened or by following the music and yelling.

"Hey, Aerith," a female voice came from behind me, and I closed my eyes and sighed. Someone's ears were burning. "Hey, Cloud."

"Tifa," Scarlet said, smiling slightly at staring at me. You evil, evil harlot. "Cloud was just talking about you."

"Only good things, I hope," Tifa laughed, looking at me. I looked away, mumbling.

"Well, uh… Reno's having a party… and I was wondering if you wanted to go."

She arched an eyebrow, a small smile forming on her lips.

"I mean, not with me. Well, with me, but not like together or anything," I stammered nervously, as she laughed, nodding.

"Party on a Wednesday? Is that how you 'country folk' do it?" she asked, ending the sentence with a country drawl.

"We're all going to ride horses there and shoot our six-shooters, too," Sephiroth's cool voice caused Tifa to jump as the taller man brushed past her, nodding at Zack. Scarlet said goodbye to us, and walked off with him.

"Sephiroth's a dick, just ignore him," Aerith whispered, causing Zack to frown at her. She shrugged. "Well, he is."

"Why is his hair like that? What, does he dye it?" Tifa asked, standing on her toes and staring after him.

"We, uh…" Zack looked at Aerith and shrugged. "We don't actually know."

"The last person who asked ended up eating through a straw for the next two months," Aerith stated matter of factly. Tifa's eyes widened, looking at me.

"Seriously," I responded with a shrug. Tifa shook her head. The bell rang, and the hallway instantly got a little louder. Locker doors slammed, people started moving, the talking got louder.

"He must use a lot of shampoo," Tifa said, still watching Sephiroth leave. I looked at Tifa. I guess he must. Never thought of that before.

"Well, we got history," I told Zack. "See you at practice."

Tifa and I walked down the hall in one direction, Zack and Aerith moved down the other. Zack pinched Aerith on the ass through her blue sundress, and she squawked, slapping him on the shoulder. Tifa giggled.

"They're cute,"

"Well, they've been dating since elementary school," I said, pulling open the door to our history class and holding it for her. "If you consider dating putting worms in each other's hair."

Tifa and I moved to the back of the classroom, sitting in the chair/desk combinations that are all the rage in high school.

"So, uh," I started, then shut my mouth instantly. Tifa looked at me, a goofy smile on her face. She was expecting me to finish the sentence. Dammit. "Are you going to the game on Friday?"

"Yeah," she smiled. "I only really went to the Junon games 'cause Johnny was playing, but now Aerith was saying how good you guys were and I thought it would be fun. After all, my dad knew who Zack was, and after my brother looked him up, he hasn't shut up about him, so I figure it should be fun to watch."

"Zack gets that a lot," I said, looking up at the front of the class.

"Anything else you wanted to ask me?" Tifa teased. I frowned, Aerith couldn't have told her, right? Alright… It's not that hard, just ask her if she wants to wear your jersey. It's no big deal. Just tell her it's a friends thing. Come on, Cloud.

"Nope."

You pussy.

She looked away, smile falling off her face a bit, as Mr. Hart began class by clearing his throat. I tossed my head back, staring at the few pencils stuck in the ceiling tiles from summer school.

* * *

><p>"I-right, 46 blast," I said through my facemask in the huddle, looking at the rest of the second stringers. "On two, on two. Ready?"<p>

"Break!" we all clapped and called in unison. The linemen jogged forward, taking their three point stances on the line. I turned, getting behind them. I slapped the center on the ass, glancing up at the defense. A 4-3 set, four down linemen and three linebackers. The linebackers were showing blitz, aggressively approaching the line, and then backing off.

I pointed to the middle 'backer, looking at the tight end. He nodded.

"Ready!" I yelled, pulling my mouth guard from my facemask and putting it in my mouth. "Down, set! Hut! Hut!"

Linemen crashed against each other with a pop of their pads connecting, as I turned, extending the ball to the running back, a sophomore. He caught it in the center of his stomach, wrapping his arms protectively around it and dashing through the hole. He sidestepped a pair of defenders, finally being taken down after a six-yard gain.

Coach blew his whistle, as I pulled my mouth guard out, sticking it back up between my facemask and helmet.

The second team was simulating the offense of Kalm, our first opponents of the season. The second team defense was doing the same thing on the other side of the field, and those poor saps had to deal with Zack picking them apart with laser beams to Sephiroth.

"Strife!" Coach called, having worked his way over here and leaving the other side to the offensive coordinator. "Run play seventeen!"

I nodded, glancing down at the QB Wrist on my left forearm. A note card with all of the plays Coach could discern from the tape of the Nibelheim v. Kalm game last year printed on it, was tucked behind a clear plastic sheet. Play seventeen…

I sighed. Shotgun formation, half back dive.

I stepped into the huddle. Reeve Tuesti was actually in on this play, looking extremely out of place and awkward in his helmet and pads.

"Shotgun, trips left, 44 dive. On one, on one. Ready?"

"Break!"

The team trotted to their positions. The three receivers to the left, running back to my right. I was a few paces behind the center this time. I surveyed the defense.

The linebackers were standing still, more or less, indicating they were in zone coverage.

Then I saw Rufus shift slightly back.

Bullshit, they were blitzing.

"Red thirteen!" I yelled, down one side of the line, then turned and did it down the other side. The team looked at me like I was crazy. "Red thirteen!"

With a curse, the defense attempted to shift. Coach blew his whistle, yelling at me, but I had tunnel vision. The only thing that mattered was getting the play off. I lifted my right leg for a moment before planting it in the turf again.

"Set! Hut!" I roared, and was surprised to see the ball hiked into my hands. I ran right, my running back right behind me. The cornerback on that side collapsed, rushing toward me, letting Reeve run free.

Big mistake.

I faked the pitch back to the running back, causing the corner to stumble a bit, then stepped up and fired a bullet to Reeve, running a slant across the field.

It hit him in the hands, dropping to the ground.

Shit. The nerd could run but he couldn't catch.

"STRIFE!" Coach hollered, grabbing me by the facemask. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Coach, I read blitz, and the safety was cheatin-"

"Bullshit, boy! You didn't read shit! You're supposed to be bein' the Kalm offense, not using our own plays to make our starters look bad, you hear me?"

I turned my head slightly, looking to see the entire first team offense had stopped what they were doing and was watching us.

"Look at me, boy!" Coach pulled on my facemask again. "Run the plays as you are told, do you hear me?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good, then fucking do it again!" he shoved me back to the huddle. "Play number three!"

I got back in the huddle, rage boiling under my skin. The running back clapped me on the pads.

"It was a good read, man," he offered. A few other players mumbled in agreement. Reeve was staring down at the ground.

I didn't respond, glancing down at my QB Wrist.

"Ace backfield, ten yard slants. On two, on two. Ready?"

"Break!"

* * *

><p>I dumped my backpack by the side of the door with a sigh. It was a long day of practice, being on coach's shit list.<p>

"Mom?" I called, walking through the kitchen to the living room. I found her sitting in her armchair, wearing another floral sundress. She was staring at the dark tube television intently.

"Cloud," she said. "Can you believe the news? They say there's war in Vietnam."

"Mom, did you take your medicine today?"

"Apparently they're communists over there."

It was an 'oh shit' moment. I moved to the medicine cabinet in the kitchen, grabbing a pair of the prescriptions, reading the labels to make sure they were the right ones. I popped the tops off, dumping a pill from each of the bottles into my palm. I grabbed a clean glass from the drying rack, filling it up with tap water. I brought them all to her.

"Mom, take these," I said, and she did as she was told, downing half of the water. She smiled at me, and I felt my heart break a little bit.

"I have such a sweet little boy. I can't believe you're already ten years old."

"Seventeen, Mom," I corrected, grabbing her hand and kneeling next to her. "I'm seventeen."

Her eyelids fluttered, and she looked away.

"I- I'm sorry, Cloud," she said. "I was just busy this morning and it slipped my mind."

"It's alright."

She sighed, returning to reality with help of the medication. She looked at me.

"How was practice today?"

"… Fine," I responded with a shrug, getting to my feet. The icy panic that had gripped my stomach faded. "I have some homework I have to do."

"I'll… work on dinner then," Mom said, looking confused at her location for a moment, getting to her feet and moving into the kitchen. I grabbed my backpack, moving to my room and tossing it on my bed.

It was one of her lighter episodes, luckily. But they were getting more and more frequent…

I sighed, running a hand through my naturally spiky hair. I sat down at my desk, opening a drawer built into the old wood. A brochure stared back at me.

Mako Assisted Living Community.

A group of elderly people walked down a forested path, laughing merrily about something. Prune juice or something, probably. That's what old people laughed about, right?

Was I actually even considering this?

I frowned, angrily slamming the drawer shut.

* * *

><p>"Hot damn," Zack said, staring out of his windshield at Tifa's house. It was easily the biggest in the entire town. "Ya' think she has some money?"<p>

"Maybe a bit," I responded from the back seat, fiddling with my button-up flannel shirt. Zack tipped his cowboy hat further back on his head, whistling. I looked up, seeing Tifa leave her front door and walk toward us.

She had a plaid shirt on, pink of course, and a pair of jean shorts that were so short I'm surprised her parents let her wear them out. She topped off the ensemble with a pair of cowboy boots, ones that reached all the way to her knees.

"Do I fit the country look?" she asked, laughing as she opened the door and got inside.

"Just about!" Zack laughed, taking his cowboy hat off and setting it on her head. She giggled, looking at herself in the mirror. Zack popped the car in reverse, backing out of her driveway, and taking off down the road, country music blaring loudly from the speakers.

It was easy to find Reno's house. Country music, louder than the sound coming from Zack's car, and the sound of breaking glass filled the night air. Zack pulled up, gravel crunching underneath his tires as he parked behind Sephiroth's truck.

"This is Reno's house?" Tifa asked, surprised, getting out of the car and looking over the rundown place. A chain link fence surrounded the front yard, which was a mess of people and beer bottles. Dead grass jutted out of the cracked dirt. Teenagers lounged on car hoods, in the beds of trucks, on the front porch, beer bottles or plastic keg cups in their hands.

The sound of shattering glass came from inside, followed by a stream of curses and raucous laughter.

"Well, technically it's his brother's," Zack explained, taking a cup from the hand of a freshman that was leaned over, releasing his dinner onto the sidewalk. He tossed it aside. "But he works as a truck driver, so he's not usually around."

The front door was open, and Zack ducked under a football that came whizzing out of the house, landing harmlessly in the yard. Rufus was near the door, chatting up a trio of freshmen girls, he gave Zack a high five as he took a pull from his half gallon bottle of rum. He lifted the bottle.

"TO ZACK FAIR!" he hollered, as the entire party lifted their drinks and yelled Zack's name. He smiled, nodded and waved, making his way to the kitchen. Tifa followed me closely, smiling and waving at the few people she knew. The kitchen was the spot to be. Several tapped kegs sat near the refrigerator, sitting within giant garbage cans, filled with ice.

Reno sat at the kitchen table, watching Sephiroth and Rude play beer pong. He took a rip off of his bong, passing it to the girl sitting next to him.

"Zack!" he yelled, tossing Zack a plastic cup. "Cloud! New girl!"

I caught both of the keg cups, offering one to Tifa. She took it, standing behind Zack.

"Ladies first."

He held the nozzle down and pumped the keg, pumping Meteor Light into Tifa's cup. The cheap beer filled up rather quickly, and she pulled the cup away, sipping it. He filled my cup next, handing it back to me. I rubbed my index finger on both sides of my nose, swirling it in the foam. Tifa watched me curiously.

"It gets rid of the foam," I told her, as the foam bubbled and receded into the beer. She tried the same thing, watching as the foam disappeared in her cup as well.

"I take it you've done this before," she said, impressed. I shrugged.

"Ain't much else to do in this town. You didn't drink much in Junon?"

"Not at parties much," she said, sipping her beer. "My dad has always wanted to open his own bar, so I was tasting his random concoctions he made."

"I gotta go find Aerith," Zack said, chugging his entire beer. He burped, filling his cup again. "I'll see y'all later."

He disappeared into the throng, as Rude calmly made the last cup. Both he and Sephiroth were stoic as the table erupted, a simple fist bump between the two of them was all the celebration they had.

"So that's the reason you moved out here," I smiled slightly, drinking a few large gulps of my beer. "Your dad bought the old tavern."

"He made his fortune in law and wanted to do something… a little more hands on."

"Nibelheim is the place to be for hands on," I shrugged.

"KEG STAND!" Reno half-yelled, half-laughed, pulling a cowboy hat off of one of the underclassmen at the party. "Cloud, grab my feet!"

I shot Tifa a look, and she gestured for me to do it. I handed her my beer, shaking my head. Sephiroth made his way to the pump, and the underclassman he grabbed the hat from grabbed his waist.

"Lift!" Reno commanded, putting his hands on the edge of the keg and kicking his feet in the air. I grabbed them, holding them high above my head. Sephiroth held down the nozzle, shouting out the number of seconds Reno drank. The entire party joined in. I saw Tifa laughing and chanting out of the corner of my eye. One… Two… Three…

After twenty-one, Reno spluttered and coughed, kicking his feet. We lowered him to the ground as the party erupted in cheers. He burped loudly, grabbing a junior girl from the crowd and kissing her passionately. The crowd erupted in cheers again as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Tifa handed me my beer back, laughing.

"This is what you guys do?"

"This is what we do," I responded, noticing Zack talking with a pair of freshmen football players as Aerith made her way over here. "This and play football. And count down the days 'til we can get out of this shithole."

Tifa shot me an unreadable look. I brought my beer to my lips.

"Tifa! You look amazing!" the bubbly girl yelled, hugging Tifa. The two began animatedly chatting.

"Cloud," someone said, tapping me on the shoulder. I turned, seeing the sophomore running back standing there. He held a shot glass. "Second string shot."

I nodded, noticing my linemen and receivers lining the hallway out of the kitchen. I saluted with the shot glass, and they all lifted it as well.

"Here, here!"

I tossed it back, shivering as the bitter alcohol ran down my throat. I quickly chased the vodka with my beer, chugging the Meteor Light like it was God's gift to liquid. I finished the beer with a short exhale.

"Cops!" someone, probably a freshman, called from near the front door. "Cops!"

Tifa tossed her beer aside, spilling all over the floor, suddenly looking very nervous. Aerith laughed, looking at me.

"Cloud," she joked. "Get her a fresh beer, there must have been something in that one."

I nonchalantly grabbed a keg cup off of the counter, filling it with beer as Tifa looked around confused. She clearly wasn't from here. No one missed a beat when the cops entered the kitchen, thumbs tucked into their belts.

"Good evening officers," Reno said calmly, looking up from making out with the girl.

"Reno," one of the cops said wearily. They've clearly done this several times before. In fact, I think they were the same cops who were here last Friday. "We got an anonymous tip that there's some underage drinking going on here."

"Underage drinking?" Reno exclaimed in mock surprise, grabbing a fifth of vodka off of the counter and taking a huge pull. "No, officer, none of that going on here."

The cops looked at each other, and then around the party, eyes lingering on the bong and kegs.

"Is there a problem, officers?" Zack asked, coming up, two beers in his hands. The lead cop shook his head.

"Just make sure no one drives, Reno," he warned, clapping Zack on the shoulder and spilling some of his beer. "Good luck Friday, Fair."

"Thank you, officer. I'll try to not let you down," Zack grinned, setting his beer down and shaking their hands. Both cops had state championship rings prominently on their fingers. The cops nodded, leaving the party quickly. I handed Tifa her beer, as she asked Aerith about what had just happened. Aerith laughed.

"Perks of living in a small town," she said, drinking from her own cup. "Everything revolves around high school football."

I returned to the keg and filled my own beer. Golden, delicious liquid flowed into my cup.

I looked up, seeing Rude eyeballing Tifa from across the party. She was shaking hands with a couple of Aerith's friends, introducing herself. She might have overdone it a bit in the cowgirl outfit, but her looks caused people, of both sexes, to meet her, and her personality won them over.

She made eye contact with me, flashing me a smile and a wink. Beer overflowed out of my cup, spilling all over my hand. She laughed, turning back to her conversation. I brought the cup to my lips, sipping down the beer to a more manageable level.

"CLOUD!" Zack shouted in my ear, causing me to jump and spill the rest of my beer over my hand with a curse. He grinned at me. "Come on."

He gestured for me to follow him out into the backyard. I did so, leaving the noise of the kitchen and entering the rather quiet atmosphere of the backyard. A group of old, ratty lawn chairs sat around a large cooler. We plopped down in them, Zack opening the lid of the cooler and tossing me a can of Meteor Light. He popped a top of one himself, sipping it down slightly.

We sat in silence for a moment, enjoying the stars and our beers. Although we lived in a small town, with all the hustle and bustle of football, girls and drinking, there was never a whole lot of time to just sit back and... kick it.

Eh, I guess you could add school to that list as well.

"Cloud," Zack started. "There's… uh… there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about. Since last week. But uh, never really had an opportunity to with practice and all and I was saying to myself, 'Zack, now's a good a time as any'…"

"What's up?" I ended his rambling, for which he looked relieved.

Zack reached into his pocket, pausing for a moment, and then reached out, holding a small black box. He opened the lid, showing me what was inside. A ring, topped off with a small diamond.

"I'm flattered, Zack, but I'm a dude."

"Shut up," Zack grunted, uncomfortable and serious for one of the few times I've ever seen him. "I know it ain't much but… I…"

"Zack at a loss for words? This is a first."

"I'm gonna ask Aerith to marry me," he blurted out. I cocked an eyebrow.

"That's heavy, Zack."

"I know…" he sighed. "It just… it's the next step, right? I mean we've been together forever… I dunno, man! I bought it on a whim! Spent every cent of my savings. This is smart, right? You're my best friend. Tell me this is smart. Tell me it's a good idea."

I didn't respond, drinking my beer. Sephiroth and Rufus came out, sitting down in chairs as well. Zack quickly hid the ring, wordlessly tossed them some beers. They popped them, and we all sat silently in the dark, drinking, listening to the music coming from inside the house.

The rest of our friends slowly made their way out. Rude came by himself, sitting next to Rufus. Scarlet and fellow cheerleader Elena came next, Scarlet sat by herself while Elena went on Rufus' lap. More beers. Reno stumbled out eventually, a new girl in tow. They sat together, the girl on Reno's lap.

"This is it, guys," Rufus said, looking around the circle. "The last year we can all do this."

"College or work," Sephiroth added, nodding.

"Nah, man," Reno scoffed, gesturing with his beer. "Once Zack's a famous QB in the NFL, we're all just gonna mooch off of him and live in his big ass house and drink beer and smoke weed and fuck bitches all day!"

Everyone laughed. Reno drank his beer, and then pulled out a chewing tobacco can, packing the stuff by smacking his finger against it loudly.

"Reno," Zack said with a short bark of a laugh. "You'll be the first to get the invite."

"Damn straight," he grunted, pulling out a bit of tobacco, tucking it between his lower lip and gum. He tossed the can to Rufus.

Aerith came out of the house, moving to Zack and wrapping her arms around his neck. She kissed the side of his face.

"Well, actually second Reno," Zack corrected. "This pretty lady gets the first invite."

"I can live with that," Reno responded, looking at Tifa as she emerged, heading over to Aerith. All of the chairs were taken in the circle. Aerith slid into Zack's lap, giving him another quick kiss. Tifa looked around the circle for a moment, trying to find somewhere to sit. Aerith gestured with her head.

Toward me.

Tifa had an evil grin on as she approached me, wrapping an arm around my neck as she lowered herself on my lap. I spluttered on my beer, coughing a few times as Aerith laughed and Zack flashed me a thumbs up.

I felt heat rise into my face really quickly, and my mouth suddenly got dry. I gulped down my beer. Rude shot me an unreadable look.

Hell, every look of Rude's is unreadable. But anyway…

Back to the matter at hand.

Tifa's sitting on my lap.

This is awesome!

Well… it took all of my self-control to prevent a certain part of my body from letting her know how awesome it was.

"So what's the next step for you two?" Tifa asked Zack and Aerith. They glanced at each other for a moment.

"Cosmo Canyon University," Aerith spoke up. "Zack's got an offer for a full ride there. And then, well, we'll just see where it goes from there."

Zack was silent. Sephiroth lifted his beer.

"Here's to the next step," he said. "No matter where we go or what we do, we'll all remain friends."

We all lifted our beers.

"To the next step!"

* * *

><p>It was late when we dropped Tifa off, Zack sitting behind the wheel of his car. She was sitting in the back this time, so I got out and lifted the seat forward for her. She got out, waved bye to Zack.<p>

"See you at school in… six hours?" I asked her. She giggled, the alcohol definitely having an effect on her. She cocked her head to the right, smiling at me, eyes twinkling in the starlight.

"See you there, handsome," she said, wrapping her arms around my neck. I was shocked for a moment, and simply stood there as she hugged me. I tentatively wrapped my arms around her, holding her close. We stood there for a few moments, I only released when she did. She started walking up her driveway, and I moved to get back into Zack's car.

But I paused for a moment.

I looked back up the driveway at her.

"Tifa. Will you remember this tomorrow?"

"Of course, Cloud," she said, hands on her hips. "I'm not that drunk."

I don't know if it was the fact that she sat on my lap, or the fact that she and I talked for hours at the party. Or if it was the vast amounts of liquid courage that I had consumed, but I suddenly felt compelled to ask her.

"Will you wear my jersey on Friday?"

She smiled, pretending to be deep in thought.

"Hmmm… well I don't know…" she teased. "Aerith told me you were going to ask me yesterday."

So she did tell her. I looked aside, suddenly embarrassed.

"Of course I will, Cloud."

"Great!" I exclaimed, looking back at her. "I'll, uh, I'll see you at school!"

"Good night, Cloud."

"G'night Tifa."

I climbed back into Zack's car, a goofy smile on my face. Zack was grinning as well, holding his fist out for a pound. I punched it, probably harder than I should have, as Zack pulled out of Tifa's driveway and down the street.

I don't think that smile was wiped off my face until the next morning.

* * *

><p><strong>NEXT TIME ON FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS:<strong> It's Friday. Which means only one thing in this town; game day. But Zack is a little distracted by a certain ESPN report. Can he lead his team to victory?


	3. Three

**III**

As soon as I stepped out of Zack's car on Friday, there was a cacophony of noise that assaulted my eardrums. The band was out in front of the school, fully uniformed, playing the school's fight song as loud as they could.

A few students loitered around outside, chanting along, but most of them ignored it and went inside. A large, hand painted banner hung over the doorway. In large, bold red letters it read 'Blast the Bandits!', complete with an image of a Nibelheim football player, wearing the number one jersey, of course, tackling a masked man wielding a knife.

Zack, Sephiroth and I walked up the stairs, home jerseys on in preparation for tonight's game. I clutched my away jersey limply in my hand, the white mesh shirt dangling inches above the ground. Several black jerseys were visible in the hallway, second and third stringers like myself hung on the outside, basically faded into the walls. The starters, on the other hand, had cheerleaders swarming around them, thrusting trays of cookies, brownies, cakes and pies into the arms of the football players.

The linemen's trays were substantially larger than any of the other players, and they dove into them with reckless abandon. The position players, like Rude, put the sweets into their lockers for later.

A group of freshmen rushed Zack, probably better than Kalm would tonight. They held their programs with outstretched hands, begging Zack to sign them. Zack took it all in stride, joking around with the kids and signing everything they offered.

A trio of cheerleaders, led by Scarlet, swarmed Sephiroth, Rice Krispie treats with the number 84 frosted on them, thick, gooey brownies, fresh cookies…

I pushed through the throng, ignoring my sweet tooth craving, and conveniently found myself stranded in no-man's land. Completely ignored by the cheerleaders, hell, none of the students even paid me any mind.

Not that I cared.

I scouted the halls for Tifa, standing on my tip-toes to see over the large flocks of students. She was standing at her locker, grabbing a textbook from inside and shoving it into her purse. I made a beeline toward her.

"Tifa," I greeted, leaning against the locker beside hers.

"Hey, Cloud."

"Here," I offering her the jersey in my hand. She took it, unraveling it and holding it up. The number four was emblazoned on both sides of the jersey in a vibrant red.

"Cool!" she said excitedly, pulling it on over the shirt she decided to wear to school. She adjusted her hair, smiling at me. "How do I look?"

I put on, what I thought was, a cocky grin.

"Nibelheim jerseys suit you."

"I'm glad they do," she laughed. "After all, it's my team now."

I stood there, staring at her, that grin on my face, for a few seconds.

"What?" she continued, passing a hand over her mouth. "Is there something on my face?"

"Wha- No!" I exclaimed, glancing down at the ground and feeling heat rush into my cheeks. "No, I was just… thinking about the game."

"Oh," Tifa turned away. "Sorry, I should've known. You're probably focusing. Well, I'll see you in class!"

She shot me a smile and headed off down the hall. I watched her leave, making a half-assed wave at her back.

Thinking about the game? What, thinking about how cold the bench is going to be today? Or how goofy the hand motions are that the offensive coordinator is going to do?

Jesus, Cloud, grow a sack and talk to her!

I sulked, moving nearly through the entire school building, finding a nearly forgotten room tucked neatly in the corner, just across the hall from the art room. The door squeaked loudly as I pulled it open, staring at the half-empty circle of desks in the center of the room.

Sitting down heavily, I glanced up, my eyes meeting the stern, beaklike face of Mrs. Ester.

"Hey, Mrs. Ester," I said dully, reaching in my backpack for a pen. She clucked, literally clucked. Was she aware she was becoming more and more birdlike?

"En Espanol, por favor, Senor Strife."

"Hola Senorita," I repeated without any energy or feeling. She slapped down a quiz in front of me, turning her long nose up and walking over to the next student.

I stared down, looking at the blue paper. Spanish.

I hate this class.

With a sigh, I skipped down to the fourth question, the first one I knew the answer to, and scribbled an answer down on the paper, eyes shooting up to the clock every so often. My foot tapped on the ground anxiously; leg pumping up and down absently. I glanced right, noticing one of the starting linemen sitting in his too small desk, chewing on his pen. He tapped his fingers on the desk, eyes shooting up at the clock every so often.

The room was quiet, aside from our tapping and the scratching of pens.

The door was tossed open, and the attention of the entire class was drawn to it. Reno stumbled in, sunglasses on, jersey un-tucked and messy. He sat down heavily in the desk next to me, burping loudly.

"Reno," Mrs. Ester hissed, slapping his quiz in front of him, leaning close. "Do I smell alcohol on your breath?"

"No, ma'am," Reno said, looking down at his quiz. "I have a game tonight."

Mrs. Ester sniffed, walking away. I slapped Reno across the arm. I was fuming. What did this jackass think he was doing?

"Ow, Cloud!"

"You idiot," I whispered harshly. "Showing up drunk on game day? What's wrong with you?"

"Shit, man," Reno leaned back and smiled. "That's why I stopped playing corner. So I _can_ show up drunk. Besides, I kick better when I'm fucked up."

I stared at him, as Reno scribbled some things on his paper, a smile on his face. I shook my head, looking back at my paper. Only number four was filled out, the rest of the answer lines were blank. I sighed, reading over question one more carefully, as if it would make the answer pop out at me.

Leg pumping all the while.

* * *

><p>After school, it was time for the final walkthrough before the game. All of us stood in our practice jerseys, basketball shorts and helmets. No pads for the walkthrough. No one was getting hit yet; just simple plays for the first team offense and defense. Formations and schemes that we would be running against Kalm in about… four hours. Zack took the snap, rolling right and firing a bullet to Sephiroth, who was touched lightly by the safety and cornerback.<p>

Coach blew his whistle, and Zack took a few steps toward the sideline, long black hair jutting out of the back of his helmet.

"Strife," Coach said, spitting on the ground. "Shotgun, empty backfield, Omaha."

I nodded, stepping onto the field and going through a variety of hand, arm and body motions. Symbols, used to tell Zack what the play Coach wanted him to run. To the untrained eye, it would look like I was having a seizure. All I was doing was pretty much making a fool of myself on the sideline.

Zack somehow understood all of my funky gestures, nodding and snapping his chinstrap up. He moved back to the huddle, calling the play. The group marched to the line with a very audible clap. Zack got the snap, took a two-step drop and surveyed the field.

He did it with such poise, such elegance, looking like Peyton Manning or Drew Brees in the pocket, his head swaying, as the offensive line coach counted down the time until Zack would be sacked. He noticed Sephiroth was covered, turning his body back toward Ricky running a short slant across the field, firing a perfect spiral that split a pair of defenders, hitting Ricky right in his hands.

"Strife, give Kunsel a shot at giving the signs, go visit Coach Taylor," Coach told me, nodding toward the offensive coordinator. I shook my head, grabbing my helmet, and heading off. Kunsel, the sophomore third string QB, stepped up, listening to Coach and going through the signs.

Kunsel was all right. He was young, but he showed good potential.

Of course, always being on Coach's shit list made me a little more wary of him, nipping at my heels and all.

He wasn't taking my damn spot.

"Strife," Coach Taylor nodded, watching the linemen run ten-yard sprints.

"Coach said you needed to see me?"

"Yeah," Taylor gestured with his head toward the trashcan near fence separating the bleaches from the field. "I think I accidentally tossed my playbook away. Why don't you go dig for it?"

...

Are you fucking kidding me?

"… Yes, sir," I responded meekly, dropping my helmet and heading toward the trashcan, reluctantly, the Nibelheim sun beating down on me. Rage surged under my skin, but two years of enduring Coach's abuse made me able to control it, and prevent it from boiling over.

I dug in the trashcan, muttering expletives under my breath, tossing old water bottles and sweaty bandages aside.

Fucking Zack.

Why did he have to be God's gift to football?

I was just as good as he was. Just…

What am I thinking?

A whistle screeched across the practice field, as Coach called the walkthroughs to a close. My hands wrapped around a worn folder, pulling it out of the trashcan. Yep, this was Coach Taylor's playbook. I glanced back toward Coach Taylor, noticing him not paying attention to me, digging around in his team's fucking trash.

Fuck him.

I tossed the playbook back in the trashcan forcefully.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Zack, check this out!"<p>

Zack looked up from his locker, tossing a small bottle of ibuprofen back in the metal box. His Nike Pro Combat sleeveless shirt stretched tight over his muscular frame. I turned as well, tucking my helmet safely away in the confines of my locker.

A good number of players were gathered around Reeve's open laptop. Reeve, ever the nervous one, looked exceptionally nervous about being the center of attention, even if it was on the device that he was, until he was rudely interrupted, doing homework on. The desktop was dominated by a single Internet window, currently open to ESPN's website.

"This is incredible," one of the linemen said, clapping Zack on the back as Zack and I pushed our way through the throng.

It revealed the ESPN top 250 high school football players in the nation, the people that colleges everywhere were salivating over in order to get them in their programs.

"Damn," Sephiroth said, glancing over the crowd. "Looks like Reno's plan's off to a good start."

Zack stared in shock at the small screen, currently dominated by the image of a single man. I couldn't blame him. I felt the same shock that had gripped him, not really comprehending what I was seeing.

The image was dominated by the image of a man, standing perfectly poised in the pocket, wearing the dominating black of a Nibelheim jersey. Number one, to be precise.

Zack Fair.

The #1 player in the nation.

"_Ladies and gentlemen, put on your big britches and gather on up. If you can't make your way down to Nibelheim High School, I sure hope you have more than one dang good reason not to, tune in to the radio and get ready to hear some magic, as the Dragons open up their season tonight against the Kalm Bandits."_

I worked diligently, buckling my flak jacket into its designated slot on my shoulder pads.

Cleats tapped nervously on the ground, as players buckled and taped and tied equipment. Other than the tapping, and Reno's off-key singing, the locker room was silent.

"_The fans are slowly trickling in, and the bleachers are going to be crowded tonight! Especially after the new ESPN article that was released this afternoon, rating our own Zack Fair as the number one player in the nation."_

Zack ran athletic tape around his wrists, no smile on his face. I pulled my pads on, buckling them tightly and pulling my jersey over top. A pair of red sweatbands went on my right wrist, and I pulled my white QB wrist on over my left forearm. I slid the official play sheet behind the clear plastic, all of the audibles and coverage shifts were clearly outlined.

Zack sat down heavily next to me, eyes staring forward blankly.

"You alright?" I'd never seen him like this.

He nodded, still staring forward, watching Sephiroth slide his shoulder pads on over his hair, trapping it safely on his back. Zach reached back into his locker, grabbing his pads, with protective flak jacket already attached, and pulling them over his undershirt.

I dipped my finger into a small jar of eye black, smearing the stuff beneath both of my eyes. I did it out of habit, dating back to when I was playing pee-wee football and complaining about the sun in my eyes. I mean, it wasn't like I was going to play.

I shot a glance at Zack, buckling his pads up silently.

I wasn't going to play, right?

"_Now, Kalm isn't the strongest of opponents, but they should be a good test to see if our team is as good and solid as we believe it is."_

"Cloud," Zack asked suddenly, tucking his number 1 jersey into his pants. "Do you think I'm the best player in the nation?"

What? What type of question was that?

"Yeah, Zack," I said. "Of course."

"Thanks, mate. Seriously, thanks," Zack grinned for the first time since reading the article, slapped me on the shoulder pads, and pulled his helmet on and hopped over to Sephiroth, delivering a head butt to Sephiroth's own helmeted head.

"Alright, listen up!" Coach hollered, as the team settled down, all fully dressed, and took a knee in the center of the locker room. "This is it. I'm going to keep this short and simple."

I glanced at Zack, that serious look back on his face.

"Our enemy is going to play with a lot of heart, but that's it. And do you know what we will do with that heart? We will rip it out, stomp on it and leave it on the field. And do you know why? Because no one wants this more than us!"

"Hoo-rah!" exploded from the throats of every player in the room.

"Let's go!"

The team filed out of the locker room, all slapping a small tin sign that hung over the door. The sign's message was simple, but powerful. The vibrant red letters stood out proudly.

I WANT IT MORE.

I turned, noticing Zack wasn't with me. Coach had pulled him aside, staring Zack in the eyes.

"This is yours for the taking," Coach said, clapping Zack on the shoulder pads. "Now get out there and take it."

"Yes, sir!" Zack yelled, hustling me out the door.

"_And here come the Dragons! Their new all black jerseys and helmets are certainly intimidating, aren't they Bob?"_

"_You bet, Jimbo. The students are really hyped up, excited for the game. Yeah, you can see Sephiroth, Fair, Richardson and Shinra making their way out to the 50-yard line. We'll let the head referee take over and give us the coin toss."_

I stood on the edge of the sideline, next to Coach, helmet on the ground by my feet and hands wrapped around the collar of my pads. The team captains; Sephiroth, Zack, Rufus and Rude, were all out at midfield, shaking hands with the Kalm captains. The student section was roaring, the noise incredibly loud. Our defense would definitely have some help tonight.

The referee flipped the coin. It flashed through the air once, before plummeting to the turf. The referee glanced down, motioning that Nibelheim had won the toss. Zack brought his fists up and together, bringing them into his body.

We would receive.

The student section went crazy as the referee announced over the P.A. system that Nibelheim would receive to start the game. The captains jogged over to the sideline, motioning for us all to come in to a large huddle. We put our fists up, all of us, first, second and third string.

"Who are we?" Zack roared.

"NIBELHEIM!" the team screamed.

"Who are we?"

"NIBELHEIM!"

"WHO ARE WE?"

"GO DRAGONS!"

The huddle broke, as the kickoff return team headed to their positions on the field. I stood next to Zack and Coach, hands still wrapped around my collar.

"_And here we go! Daniels sends a booming kick roaring through the air, end over end, and it's caught by McMurphy in the endzone. He will take a knee and we will get our first view of the season of Zack Fair."_

"Heavy-I, play action outs," Coach told Zack, pushing him out to the field. "Heavy-I, play action outs!"

Zack and the rest of the first string team jogged out onto the field, not taking a lot of time in the huddle. They broke it, moving up and lining up on the 20-yard line.

"Ready?" Zack screamed, easily audible even on the sideline. "Omaha! Omaha! Down, set! Hut! HUT!"

The ball was snapped back into Zack's hands, and he ran back, faking the hand off to Rude and rolling right, firing a spiral into the hands of Sephiroth, who kept his feet in bounds, before being shoved out mere nanoseconds after the catch.

"_Nice grab by Sephiroth there. A gain of about 7 yards. Fair looking to the sidelines, getting the play from QB2… Cloud Strife, QB2 Cloud Strife."_

"_Strife looks a little uncomfortable doing the YMCA on the sidelines there."_

"_He sure does, but Fair has the play and is back in the huddle. 2__nd__ and 3 on Nibelheim's own 27. Fair in the shotgun formation, Richardson in motion out to the right. The ball is snapped and Fair takes a few steps back. Pump fakes… He has Sephiroth open on the right side! Fair cocks, fires… and Sephiroth makes the catch! He's at the 40… the 30… the 20…"_

"_He's gonna score, Bob!"_

"_Touchdown Dragons! Wow! What a throw by Zack Fair!"_

"_The Kalm secondary bit on that first pump fake, perfectly timed on Sephiroth's pause, and then he streaked down the field, completely wide open. What a play by Zack Fair!"_

The offense was ecstatic, as the student section was roaring in approval, the bleachers shaking as the students stomped their feet. Sephiroth and Zack leapt into the air, shoulder bumping as they made their way back to the sideline. Zack unsnapped his chinstrap, lifting his helmet and taking a water bottle offered by the manager. He squeezed water into his mouth as Reno kicked the extra point through the uprights. Coach clapped Zack on the shoulder pads.

"Nice throw," I told him. Zack grinned, offering his fist for a fist bump. I humored him, punching his fist softly. Zack waved at the stands, causing me to turn and look.

Aerith was in the front row, her white number 1 jersey a stark contrast to the black one Zack was wearing. And standing next to her…

Tifa. Still wearing my number 4 jersey. I gave a little wave, one that she returned with a big grin on her face.

The next drive was a long one, the Kalm offense whittling down our defense with run and pass plays, before their running back found the end zone on a 7 yard dive. The student section let out a collective groan as Kalm celebrated, and the Dragons defense made their way back to the sidelines.

Zack pulled his helmet down over his face, leaving his chinstrap unbuckled as Coach told him the next play to start off the series.

* * *

><p>"<em>It's been a hard fought battle through the first quarter, as Nibelheim's defense can't quite figure out how to stop Kalm."<em>

"_Well, they're running a lot of misdirection and counters, and it's throwing the young defense off. Rufus Shinra has been stepping in to make a lot of tackles, Bob, but as the safety, he should not be getting this many looks."_

"_Frankly no one was expecting Kalm to come out here and put up this much of a fight. Here comes Fair back on the field with four minutes and some change left in the second quarter."_

Zack was lined up in the shotgun formation, analyzing the defense. I stretched my neck, looking out over the defense. A pair of defenders were showing blitz on the left side. Zack glanced over at the sideline, staring for a long time.

At me.

At least, I think he was looking at me, it felt like we had extended eye contact, but I couldn't really tell.

Zack leaned over to talk to Rude, moving him over to the right side.

Zack just messed up the blocking formation. He was gonna get hit.

"Coach," I started, but Zack hiked the ball, standing still in the pocket for a beat.

The defenders hit him hard, driving him into the turf. Zack protectively wrapped up around the ball.

"_And Fair goes down hard. And he's slow to get up."_

"_He's hurt Bob."_

"_Fair is limping off the field, as the trainers are heading out to meet him halfway. This stadium is dead silent."_

The raucous student section was silent, as I stared in shock. Zack had purposefully moved Rude out of the way, allowing the linebackers free access to him. Coach was silent, I knew he could feel his season slipping through his fingers.

"Strife," Coach said softly. "Ace backfield, 46 sweep."

"What?" I asked stupidly, as Zack took his helmet off, being supported by the trainers as he made his way to the sideline, grimacing and limping.

"Red-26! Ace backfield, 46 sweep!" Coach yelled. "Put your lid on and get out there!"

Oh shit.

"_Junior Cloud Strife is slowly heading out to the huddle. This kid has taken no snaps at the Varsity level."_

"Oh shit," I muttered.

My breath was frozen in my chest, as I stumbled out to the huddle, chin strap swaying wildly as I ran. I was about to pass Zack, still held up by both trainers, and we made extended eye contact.

I stopped, turning and staring at Zack's retreating back. I could've sworn that between the grimaces…

Zack winked at me.

"Cloud!"

I turned and headed to the huddle, leaning in close. For some reason, I was out of breath from that short run, panting slightly.

Everyone's eyes were on me.

"Right, right… uhh…" I looked at my QB wrist. Red-27… Red-26? Right? Shit, I couldn't remember the play. "Red-26. We're gonna… gonna go I-Right-"

"Red-26 is Ace backfield," Ricky corrected. "Ace backfield, Cloud."

"You sure you're ready for this?" Sephiroth asked, cold eyes locking onto mine. I nodded.

"Ace backfield. 46 sweep. On two, on two. Ready?"

"What's the protection package?" a lineman asked me.

"Protection package?"

Oh shit.

"Fuck it, it's a sweep right, we're gonna go Eagle," the center said, as I nodded dumbly in agreement.

"Break," the team called half-assed, moving to the line. My vision swam slightly, breath still coming in short gasps.

I think I'm gonna throw up.

"Eagle! Eagle!" the center called, voice slightly muffled by his mouth guard.

The linebackers were approaching the line aggressively, laughing as they were backing off.

"R-ready!" I called, voice cracking slightly. "Down, set. Hut! Hut!"

The ball was thrust into my hands, and I was surprised I didn't fumble the snap. My mind went blank, and I turned around…

"_Strife's turning the wrong way! He got the play wrong!"_

I felt a crushing pressure on my back, arms wrapping around the ball protectively as I was leveled, smashing to the turf.

"Welcome to Varsity, bitch!" a gruff voice yelled in my ear, as the linebacker got off of me, and I pushed myself to my feet. My eyes instantly went to the sideline, noticing Zack sitting on the bench, leaning forward intently, staring at me. My eyes traveled upward, finding Tifa and Aerith. Aerith was looking at Zack, but Tifa was staring at me, a concerned look on her face.

I was hauled to my feet by my armpits, I absently clapped the lineman on the back for helping me up.

Fuck thinking, I know I'm going to throw up.

I glanced at the yard markers on the side of the field. It was 3rd and 17, a long way to go, turning my head back to Coach and Kunsel.

The sophomore went through a variety of signs.

Oh shit.

I shook my head, spinning my two index fingers over each other to signal for him to show the signs again. Kunsel did it, slower this time.

The T with his arms stood for Black, and he put up… a two and a four. Black-24.

I turned to the huddle, staring at my QB wrist. Black-24…

I opened my mouth to talk, but no noise came out. I was panting still.

"Cloud," Rude's calm voice came from behind his dark visor. The normally stoic running back put a gloved hand on my shoulder. "Breathe."

"Iambreathing," I exhaled, pausing for a moment before drawing in a lungful of air.

"Better?"

"Better," I said, actually believing it. I felt like a totally new man. I looked at my QB wrist again. "Black-24… Shotgun, empty backfield, five wide verticals. On three, on three. Ready?"

I felt panic seize my chest.

"Oh shit, he wants me to pass."

"You're the QB, it's what you do," one of the receivers said.

"Break!"

I stepped to the line, legs feeling like Jell-O.

"_Strife steps into the shotgun formation, empty backfield. The Kalm defenders show no respect for the young quarterback, leaving all of the receivers in one-on-one coverage and showing blitz once again."_

They were going to blitz me, of course they were going to blitz me. I brought my leg up, planting it back in the ground. Breathe, like Rude said.

"Ready?" I called, glancing at the defenders, realizing none of them were going to drop back in coverage. "Down, set! Hut! HUT!"

I paused, none of the defenders fell for the hard snap count. Bummer. I brought my leg up again and planted it once more.

"Hut!" I called, eyes tracking the football as it was snapped back and snatching it out of midair, turning it slightly in my hands until my fingers fell across the laces. Kalm brought six men, rushing me frantically.

"_Strife rolls right…"_

I ran to the right, escaping the pocket and a bit of the pressure. It wouldn't buy me much time however. I stepped up, noticing Ricky break toward the center of the field. I fired.

"_Strife throws a beautiful spiral downfield, he's got Smith open! Wow! Who knew Cloud Strife could throw a ball like that?"_

The ball met Ricky perfectly in stride, as he grabbed it and turned up field, but was crashed into by the defender and leveled. First down!

Wow!

The fans cheered, and I smiled a bit in spite of myself. Nice throw, Cloud! I looked back at Kunsel.

Chopping motion, wrist to wrist, followed by three fingers and five fingers.

Red-35.

I stepped into the huddle.

"Let's go, let's go," I said. "Up tempo, let's catch 'em with their pants down. We're going Red-35. Shotgun, 42 draw. 42 draw. Got it? On one, on one. Ready?"

"Break!"

I stepped to the line.

"Ready? Down, set! HUT!"

I dropped back, holding the ball up like I was going to fire a screen pass to Sephiroth, but then handed the ball off to Rude, who powered through the line and picked up a rather decent gain.

"_Strife is putting together a pretty nice drive here! This must be much more than anyone expected of the young kid!"_

A hand waved in front of the face. Both pointer fingers pointed up.

White-11.

"White-11," I glanced down at my QB wrist, getting into the groove of the game. The fullback ran onto the field, as one of the receivers sprinted off. "Pro-set, quick slants. On set. Got that? On set. Ready?"

"Break!"

I stepped up to the line, trying to read the defense. They were caught on their heels a bit, respecting me a tad and rocking a coverage package right now.

"Down!" I glanced right. "Set!"

The ball was forcefully shoved into my hands. Pads popped as linemen connected. I took three quick steps back and glanced around the field. Sephiroth was double teamed, as was Ricky.

Shit.

"_The pocket collapses around Strife."_

"_Nice spin move!"_

"_Cloud eludes trouble with a clean spin move, getting outside the pocket…"_

A defender lunged at me with a grunt, grabbing a handful of my jersey. I instinctively ran right, spinning slightly. I felt the pressure alleviate, running right. Everyone is covered… got to make a play.

I tucked the ball and ran, sprinting up the sideline. The defenders suddenly began collapsing on me, rushing at me with reckless abandon. Luckily, I had enough of my mind to slide down safely. The ref blew his whistle, and I tossed him the football, getting to my feet and pulling out my mouth guard at the same time.

Zack was jogging toward me, helmet on. My heart sank slowly, down into my feet.

"Sorry, Cloud," Zack said with a shrug. "I stalled as long as I could. Once Coach heard there was nothing wrong with my ankle, he demanded I go back in. Nice drive, though."

I didn't respond, unbuckling my chinstrap and walking off the field slowly. Once I got to the sideline, I took my helmet off, took the water bottle offered to me and walked back to the bench. Coach gave me a congratulatory slap on the shoulder pads.

Fuck him.

I had this.

The fans applauded, politely, although I could see Tifa and Aerith going nuts in the front row.

"_Give a big hand to Cloud Strife, kids, he stepped in and did a great job while Fair had his tweaked ankle or whatever was ailing him."_

"_One for one for twenty-two yards. One rush for thirteen yards. Not too shabby."_

I sat down heavily on the bench, setting my helmet on the ground. Reeve was sitting next to me, reading his playbook.

"Nice… good job, Cloud," Reeve said nervously. I sighed, leaning back on the bench, arms stretched over the metal back.

"I had it," I said, tossing my head back, blonde hair matted to my head with sweat. "I fucking had it."

My peripherals caught Reeve nod his head, as I watched Zack throw a perfect pass to Sephiroth in the end zone. The fans erupted. I didn't feel the same exuberance. If anything I felt…

Disappointed.

* * *

><p>"<em>And that's the ballgame, folks. Fair's return with two minutes left in the second half energized the Dragons, and went on to absolutely crush Kalm in the second half, winning 42-20."<em>

"_The second half was more of the result that we expected to see coming into this game. Kalm played with a lot of heart, lot of energy but just couldn't last against Nibelheim. Once again, the final score, 42-20. This is Bob, Jimbo and Scooter signing off. Goodnight, Nibelheim, enjoy the victory and, as always, go Dragons!"_

I stepped out of the locker room, after a shower and a change of clothes, walking toward the parking lot. Zack was off to the right, being interviewed by damn near every media outlet in the greater tri-county area.

"Cloud," a soft voice called from behind me. "Hey, Cloud."

"Tifa?"

"Hey," she repeated, walking toward me from her spot against the wall. "I just wanted to tell you good job tonight, you played really well."

"Thanks," I muttered, nervously scratching the back of my head.

"Well, except for that first play," she laughed.

"Yeah, I guess… I got a little confused."

As if that wasn't an understatement.

"Hey, are you going to Aerith's barn party tonight?"

"No," I responded quietly, looking away. "I, uh, I have… some… things to do?"

"Things?" Tifa teased. "More important than your friends?"

"Yeah," I responded honestly. Mom had been home alone since I left for school this morning. I had to make sure she was all right. And if I had to sacrifice a barn party to do that… so be it.

This is my life. Second string football player, third string ladies man, first string caregiver.

"Cloud? Yoo-hoo," Tifa waved a hand in front of my face. "You kind of… dazed out for a moment."

"Sorry, I'm just kinda tired," I muttered, as Zack finally finished up his Q and A session. "I'll see you later Tifa."

"Yeah," she said, smiling. "I would give you your jersey back but, uh, I don't think it's appropriate to wear a bra to a party."

Southern Cloud shifted at this comment, and I laughed softly, shaking my head and waving bye to Tifa.

"I'll see you soon," Zack said, coming up behind Tifa and wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "And then I'll show you how Nibelheim parties after a victory."

"I'd like that," Tifa laughed. "Bye, Cloud."

I nodded, getting into Zack's car.

* * *

><p>Zack pulled up in front of my house. I didn't unbuckle though. A question had been running through my mind since I went in to the game tonight.<p>

"Zack."

"Hmm?"

"Why'd you do it? Fake the injury?"

He shrugged.

"Honestly? I figured you needed to be a hero."

"A hero?"

"Yeah," Zack said, running a hand through his long black hair. "You've played second fiddle to me for God knows how long. I thought you needed your own time in the spotlight."

"… Thanks."

"No worries."

I opened the car door, walking across the yard to my house and up the creaky steps. I pulled open the screen door.

"Mom?"

"Cloud."

She was in her recliner, watching TV. I moved to the kitchen, making sure she had taken her pills today, and did the dishes. Drying my hands off on a paper towel, I moved to the old loveseat, sitting down heavily.

Mom was focused on the Home Shopping Network. I sighed, laying back against the couch.

Welcome to my life.

* * *

><p><strong>NEXT TIME ON FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS: <strong>The Fair family throws a barbecue to celebrate Zack's recent publicity. Meanwhile, a confrontation between Cloud and Johnny leads to a rift between Cloud and Tifa, and some bad blood between the Junon and Nibelheim football teams.


	4. Four

**IV**

"Come on, Cloud, push it out! Two more!"

I grunted, spitting a bit between my teeth as my arms wobbled. My arms locked out, holding the heavy bench press barbell over my chest.

Two more?

"Do it, Cloud," Zack said, holding his hands underneath the bar, but not grabbing it. "Not even touching it. Go."

I took a deep breath, dropping my arms and bouncing the bar off of my chest a bit, and pushing upward with all of my might.

I grunted, pushed, sweat trickling down my head.

Groaning, I locked out my arms again. I moved to rack the bar, but Zack stopped me.

"One more."

Fuck you.

I dropped the weight, pushing it up again…

Fuck.

It's not moving.

Wait. Yes it is.

It's coming back down.

"Fuuuuuckkkk…" I managed to get out, as the bar slowly moved down toward me. Zack spotted me, wrapping his hands underneath the bar and hoisting it up, racking it heavily.

"Thanks," I panted, sitting up and wiping the sweat from my forehead. Glancing around the weight room. Weights clanked and men grunted and swore, as the team had its designated workout time. Rude was on the bench next to me, arms chugging as he easily repped 225 pounds on the bench press. He racked the bar without any assistance from Sephiroth, sitting up and pulling the white headphones of his iPod out of his ears.

Geez.

I stood up, allowing Zack to slide down on the bench, exhaling loudly and grasping the bar in both of his hands. He lifted it, as I swung around the back of the bench to spot him, and lowered it to his chest, busting out reps quickly. I didn't even bother to protect him from the bar, instead watching the rest of the team working out.

"Cloud," Zack said, voice straining softly. I looked down, grabbing the bar and racking it strongly. Zack sat up, grabbing a towel on the ground.

"So what's on the agenda next week?" he asked me, wiping his face.

"I gotta take Mom to the doctor next Sunday," I said, counting on my fingers as I mentally ticked off my checklist.

"She doing alright?" Zack asked, legitimately concerned.

I shrugged.

"Then I got that project for Hart's class," I said, sliding back on the bench. "You know, the one you warned me about."

"Pain in the ass. Make sure you have a good partner. I think that project was the cause of Aerith and me's first fight," Zack said, scratching the stubble that sprang out of his chin. I lifted the bar, taking a deep breath, and continued my second set of bench press.

"Not only… that," I grunted between reps. "But practice… and… work… and of course the… game tomorrow…"

"You're like a single mom," Zack grinned, but it was wiped off his face after I gave him one of my signature death glares. "Sorry, bad joke."

I grunted, racking the bar with Zack's help, and sat up.

"So, I figured out one good thing about the game," Zack said.

"Besides winning?"

"You showed Coach that you can play," Zack tossed the towel in the dirty basket, walking alongside me into the locker room. "I'm sure you'll get a few more garbage time minutes."

"Garbage time," I sighed.

"Hey, man, you got next year."

"I guess you're right," I muttered, stripping off my sweat-soaked cut off shirt. I tossed it aside, heading toward the showers.

"Hey, I forgot to tell ya'," Zack yelled across the locker room as I turned on the shower and stood under the hot water. "My parents are throwing this little… barbeque thing, as a celebration for the ESPN thing…"

"When is it?" Zack wasn't asking me to come; he never did, just told me when and where and expected me to show up.

"My house, tonight, around 5ish. I think."

I opened my mouth, allowing it to fill with water, before spitting it on the tiled floor.

"I'll be there."

* * *

><p>Smoke cascaded out of the silver barbeque as Mr. Fair pulled the lid open. Burgers and bratwurst cooked over the flames. Laughter echoed around the small backyard, from a variety of sources. I stood behind Zack and Aerith, his arm wrapped securely around her waist, in line for the food.<p>

A pair of the neighbor kids were throwing the football around, as all of the older high schoolers stood in line for food.

The beer that we had stolen from the numerous coolers was catching up with us.

"Cloud!" Mr. Fair exclaimed. "Burger or brat?"

"Both, please, Mr. Fair."

He obliged, scooping a sausage and patty onto the pair of open buns on my paper plate. I moved to a small picnic table, a stained tablecloth draped over it. I glanced over the meager offerings. Potato salad with too much mayo and been out in the heat too long. Baked beans from Aerith that were… actually pretty good. I scooped a bit of that onto my plate.

Zack motioned for me to join him on the stoop leading from his backyard up to his porch. I walked over there, sitting on the lowest step and taking a bite of my burger. Sephiroth lounged across the top step, sunglasses on and shirt off, basking in the early evening sun. Rufus and Rude sat the next step down, eating in silence, while Zack and Aerith sat one step above me, Aerith laughing and playfully slapping Zack.

Coach and his wife were deep in conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Fair, as a few of the neighbors and friends parents mingled amongst each other in the backyard.

"Not bad, Zack," Rufus said, washing his burger down secretly with a beer.

"Yeah, my dad is quite the grill master."

"Zack!" the so-called grill master called, waving Zack over. "Get over here, son."

Zack sighed, setting his plate down and giving Aerith a quick peck on the lips before jogging over to his Dad.

"My boy," Mr. Fair said, tossing his arm around Zack's shoulders. I suppressed a smile. Mr. Fair was teetering about, too many beers for him tonight. "This is my boy, the best damn football player in the nation."

Zack smiled slightly, as parents politely clapped for him.

"Not only is he going to stomp every opponent he plays this year, but he's gotten a full ride scholarship to the prestigious Cosmo Canyon University," Mr. Fair's chest puffed out with pride. "Where he will quickly become the best collegiate player in history!"

Zack shifted uncomfortably, as Mr. Fair grabbed the football from the kids playing. He shoved it unceremoniously into Zack's hands. He spun the pigskin slowly in his hands.

"Curl route," he told Zack.

"Dad, you're drunk."

"Show these people why you're the best football player in the nation," Mr. Fair commanded, staring at Zack with pride in his eyes. Zack sighed, spreading his legs apart.

"Set. Hut!"

Mr. Fair staggered his way across the yard, pretending to juke defenders out. Sephiroth tossed his head back and laughed. Mr. Fair stopped, turning around and holding his hands up for Zack to throw him the ball. Zack fired…

Missing low and wide, the ball skipping across the yard to lie still at my feet.

"Come on, Zack," Mr. Fair said, walking toward his son. "Get your head out of your ass and throw the ball right!"

"It slipped," Zack retorted softly, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Fingers were greasy."

"Yeah, he got a juicy burger," Aerith spoke up from the stoop. I reached down, not leaving my seat, fingers settling on the laces of the football.

I brought my arm back and pulled it forward, launching the football across the yard.

It hit Zack sharply in the hands, right on a perfect line.

The whole barbecue stopped and stared at me.

"Now that's how you throw a football!" a man I didn't know laughed. I looked around, seeing everyone looking between Zack and I.

But Zack was looking down at the football, turning it slowly in his hands, a frown on his face.

* * *

><p>The students roared as Rude broke a few tackles and sprinted downfield for a huge touchdown.<p>

We were stomping Gongaga through the third quarter, and while it would be prudent to remove Zack from the game and protect your star quarterback from injury, Gongaga couldn't mount enough of a defensive stand to even flush Zack out of the pocket, or to even get close to him. He hadn't been hurried, knocked down or sacked; in fact he was not even touched in the slightest.

So Coach had no problem keeping him in.

I leaned back on the bench, throwing my head back, my helmet untouched on the ground next to my feet from where I set it at the beginning of the game. My jersey was impeccably clean, eye black completely solid under my eyes. Hell, even my hair stood up wildly. There was no point to even put my helmet on my head tonight.

What a drag.

All Zack had done with his little stunt, getting me into the game, was give me false hope. I came into the season not expecting to play a down, period. Even in garbage time, they would give the job to Sephiroth so he would stop complaining about being number three in the depth chart.

But now, I was actually upset. I wasn't going to play, and I… I don't know. I can't really describe what I'm feeling. I'm torn, sitting somewhere between 'not interested' and 'fuck, why am I not playing'.

So, thanks, Zack.

Thanks for making my high school experience even harder.

Zack trotted over to the sideline, being congratulated and slapped on the pads by everyone on the team. We made eye contact, and the star of the team started heading over to me.

He was cut off by Coach Taylor, and was shuffled over to the group of offensive players standing together. Like I was quarantined, and Zack was being shooed as far away from me as to stop him from catching my apparent case of 'suck'.

I turned my head, looking back up toward the student section. Aerith was there, standing in her front row spot again, cheering wildly, Zack's jersey too large jersey flopping around her form. My eyes shifted left, noticing Tifa standing next to Aerith, clapping politely while talking to someone standing next to her. A few butterflies escaped in my stomach, and a small surge of pride blossomed in my chest when I noticed she was still wearing my jersey, gathering up the loose fabric and binding it together on the small of her back with a rubber band.

She was smiling, talking to the guy next to her. I couldn't really see who that was; Scarlet's pom-pom went up at the perfect time to block my vision. Tifa glanced back at me, smiling and waving. I gave a little acknowledging wave.

No smile though.

Cloud Strife doesn't smile.

Scarlet's pom-pom went down as the cheerleaders went into their next routine.

Johnny.

He was staring at me, his eyes burning into mine, a neutral expression on his face as Tifa animatedly chatted his ear off.

Shit.

I quickly turned around, focusing on the game.

Shit, shit, shit.

Rufus intercepted the hapless Gongaga QB, returning the touchdown to the house as the stands and sideline exploded into a frenzy.

51-0.

Good game Gongaga.

I stole a glance back at the stands, noticing everyone was on their feet, jumping and screaming and high fiving and chest bumping and all manner of other types of celebrations. Tifa and Aerith were hugging, jumping up and down excitedly.

But Johnny was stoic, staring me down.

I didn't relent this time, locking on my biggest badass stare and facing him down.

While I sat on the bench.

Alone.

While everyone but us celebrated.

* * *

><p>Alcohol flowed, spilling out of all manner of containers and onto the straw-covered ground of the Gainsborough family barn. Zack and Reno eye to eye in the centerpiece, a rickety old table, with numerous cans and keg cups scattered over the surface. Sephiroth and Ricky stood with Zack, while Rufus and Rude stood with Reno. Rufus and Ricky had already finished their cups, as Sephiroth finished a few moments before rude, slamming his keg cup onto the table and moving it near the edge. He deftly flipped it, once, as it landed on the rim and remained still. Rude did the same thing, after a couple of flips.<p>

But Zack, fucking Zack, waited until Reno was next in line. Reno dropped his cigarette into a beer can, toasting Zack with his plastic keg cup. They chugged, throats bobbing as the liquid was quickly shuttled down into their stomachs. Reno finished a split second before Zack, flipping the cup. It bounced off the edge, clattering on the ground. Reno reached down to grab it as Zack began flipping. The crowd gathered around the table cheered and heckled the two.

A cup landed flatly on its rim, sliding slightly across the table. Reno had won, as he flexed and laughed, high fiving his teammates. Zack smiled, reaching across the table and slapping hands together with Reno in a handshake.

Fucking Zack.

I sipped my beer, standing mostly on the outside of the circle. The depression that I was unaware that was bottled up inside me had taken hold, and the only way to deal with it was the only way I knew how.

Drink a shit ton of beer.

I was glad I was on the outside; I didn't want to talk to anyone, didn't want to see anyone. My minor depression was weighing heavily on my mind.

I just wanted to quietly drink my goddamn beer in solitude.

"Cloud," Aerith walked toward me, holding a red keg cup in her hand. "Have you seen Tifa?"

"I thought she was with you," I tried to brush her off, turning around. The bubbly flower girl didn't pick up on the hint.

"She said she was going to be here tonight."

"Why should I care?"

"Stop being an asshole, Cloud, you're not very good at it."

"Whatever."

She left, shaking her head. I finished my beer, crushing it and dropping it on the ground. My next can was opened in a hurry; the hiss of carbonation escaping the can was lost in the bumping music and loud chatter. My attention was drawn to the barn doors, as they were pulled open slowly.

Tifa entered, no longer wearing my jersey but carrying it in her hand.

Johnny followed her, eyes shifting around with a neutral look on his face. An old leather jacket was tightly pulled over his broad shoulders.

"Check this fucker out," Sephiroth noticed Johnny first, finishing his beer and slamming it on the ground. Reno bit a cigarette out of the pack, clenching it between his teeth and moving toward Johnny. He was quickly flanked by Sephiroth, Rude and Ricky. Zack had disappeared off the end of the table.

"Hey, asshole," Reno said, lighting his cigarette. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Just drinking a beer," Johnny said, staring down Reno. "You got a fuckin' problem with that?"

"Yeah, we do," Ricky said, crossing his arms. "This is a Nibelheim party, ain't no Junon allowed here."

"Do we have a problem with that?" Sephiroth muttered dangerously, cracking his knuckles.

"Hey!" Tifa exclaimed. "Hey! We're all friends here!"

"He ain't no friend of mine," Reno spat on the ground.

Johnny and Sephiroth approached each other, one step closer, eye to eye. Neither man gave an inch, faces locked and fists clenched tightly.

"Stop it, Johnny!" Tifa yelled, grabbing her boyfriend and pulling him away from Sephiroth. "Cloud, help me out!"

Help out?

I shrugged.

"Not my problem," I stated dully, drinking my beer. Tifa's eyes flashed between hurt and angry, as she pulled Johnny away.

"Yeah, you better fuckin' run," Reno yelled, throwing his beer at Johnny. He missed him terribly, but the message was clear. Johnny paused at the doors, turning around and staring across the party.

Straight at me.

Our stare down was broken by Tifa stomping toward me.

"Thanks a lot, Cloud," she said, eyes flashing dangerously. She tossed my jersey in my face forcefully, spilling my beer. "Thanks for being a friend."

Friend?

"Tifa," I started, but she marched out of the party, sliding between the open doors and disappearing. My despair suddenly doubled. Aerith was right, I was bad at being an asshole.

"Sorry," I muttered, barely audible.

"For what?" Zack asked, approaching me from behind. I walked past him, dropping my beer on the ground and clutching my jersey tightly. Zack followed me as I walked out of the barn, into the cool night air. Tifa's car tore off into the night.

"Hey," Zack put a hand on my shoulder. "What's the problem?"

"Don't fuckin' talk to me tonight, man," I grunted. "I'm not in the mood."

"Is this because of Johnny? Because fuck him, man, who gives a shit about some douchebag from Junon?"

"It's not because of Johnny."

It's because of you. Because of Tifa. Because of Mom. Because of Coach…

"I'm going home," I muttered, walking down the dirt road leading away from Aerith's property.

Zack made no move to stop me.

* * *

><p>I survived the weekend, holed up inside my house, dreading every passing minute that would break my self imposed isolation and force me to head back to school. Monday was… awkward, to be frank. Zack was kind enough to overlook my minor explosion toward him.<p>

I wasn't so lucky with Tifa.

In Hart's class, she moved away from me and gave me the silent treatment, pretending like I wasn't even there.

I normally would be fine with that, with anyone other than her.

But Tifa's rejection… stung.

"Hey! Am I going to get my fries or what?"

"Wha-" I was jarred out of my fugue. "Sorry, yes sir, I'll get right on that. Sorry, sorry."

I moved back to the deep fryer, scooping fries into a large cardboard tub, dumping the contents of the seasoning shaker over them and handing them to the large truck driver standing impatiently at the register. Zack sat on the counter, headphones in, reading a textbook, head bopping every once in a while.

"Cloud," Lilly called from the back, causing me to turn around. "Take out the trash real quick? It's funkin' up the place."

"Yeah, I got it," I called, slapping Zack on the knee. "Watch the register real quick, yeah?"

"Lilly, you should just give me a job here, I work here enough," Zack joked, hopping off the counter.

"The only job you do is sit on your butt on the counter," Lilly countered, flipping a burger as I pulled an overflowing plastic trash bag out of the can, moving through the kitchen.

"Yeah, but my cute butt would be better behind the register, don't ya' think?"

I opened the door, stepping into the night air, moving across the small alley back to the dumpster. I threw the trash bag in unceremoniously, dusting my hands off.

A car door closed. And then another. And another.

I turned, standing face to face with four muscular men. Junon Letterman jackets on each of their frames.

"Nice hat," one of them laughed.

"You jump one of our guys, we jump one of yours," another said, spitting on the ground. "Nothin' personal, bud, just rivalry."

Adrenaline pounded and fear gripped in my chest.

"Nah, man," a familiar voice came from one of the silhouettes. "This shit is personal."

Johnny.

Dear God. I'm gonna die.

I shot a glance toward the back door of the Tasty-Freeze, still ajar. I could yell and get Zack's attention…

"Let's fuck him up," Johnny said.

"Zack!" I called in mock surprise, pointing toward the door. All four of the Junon players turned, looking for the star quarterback.

I lashed out with my right arm, smashing Johnny across the face with a sucker punch sending him stumbling backwards.

The players recovered far quicker than I anticipated. They attacked me, and while I fought back, catching a few with a couple of punches, but I was knocked to the ground quickly. Blood splattered onto the concrete as I collapsed onto a knee, dribbling from my split lip and broken nose.

I was hauled to my feet, arms held tightly by a pair of Junon players. Johnny stood in front of me, nose broken and blood running down his face.

"Strife," Johnny grabbed my hair, pulling my head up roughly. "Nice pretty hair you got."

A right hook caused stars to explode in front of my eyes, face aching and fresh blood trickled onto my white uniform. He pulled my head up again, staring at me in the eyes. Well, eye, my left one was swollen mostly shut. My head was swimming.

"Stay the fuck away from my girlfriend," he grunted, socking me in the stomach forcefully and causing me to collapse on the ground, coughing and spluttering.

They started kicking me on the ground, as I curled up in a pathetic fetal position to protect my insides.

"Cloud, what the fuck is taking so long?" Zack said, coming out of the restaurant. He stopped at the doorway, as the Junon players all froze mid-kick. "CLOUD!"

My vision blurred, as I spit some blood onto the sidewalk. Johnny delivered one more kick to my midsection, knocking all of the wind out of me. All of the Junon players scrambled for their truck, which was idling softly in the parking lot. They hopped in the bed, whooping and hollering, as the truck tore off down the road.

Zack ran toward me, kneeling down.

"Jesus…" Zack muttered, turning toward the door. "Lilly! Call 911!"

* * *

><p>I sat in Zack's car, silent, as he drove me home from the hospital. Most injuries were superficial; split lips, broken nose, black eyes and an eyebrow gash that required a few stitches.<p>

"I know you didn't tell the cops who did it," Zack said softly, driving alone in the darkness. "But I know you saw. We'll deal with them."

"I don't need you fighting my battles," I grunted.

"Yeah, you did a bang up job of defending yourself."

"Fuck you," I muttered softly.

"What?"

"Fuck you."

"Did those punches jar a few brain cells loose? What the hell is wrong with you tonight?"

"Stop the car," I said harshly, turning toward Zack. He kept driving. "Stop the fucking car!"

He did this time, stopping in the middle of the road. I threw open the door, moving to get out of the car.

The seatbelt stopped me, pulling me back into the seat. I unbuckled harshly, walking out down the dark road. Zack got out of his car as well, standing by his door.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"YOU!" I yelled, turning toward Zack. He blinked. "You, Zack. You're what's wrong with me. Everything that has happened to me lately is because of you!"

He was silent.

"I was fine with my life, fine with sitting in the shadows and letting you stand in the middle of the spotlight. I was fine with that! I didn't need to play, and now that I have, you set that stupid wheel in motion where I feel like I should play! I shouldn't play! I'm a fucking second string quarterback!"

My lips split open again, blood trickling down my chin as I screamed at Zack, venting all of the feelings that had been built up within me.

"And your pressure with Tifa! That's why I got my ass kicked! For what? She has a boyfriend that she cares about, who would go for me? Why can't I just be normal? Why do I have to take care of my Mom? Why does my life fucking suck so much?"

"You're wrong, Cloud," Zack said softly. I stared at him, chest heaving. "You're much more than you think you are. No one should have to play with the hand that you've been dealt, but you not only play it, you win with it."

I wiped a hand over my chin.

"I idolize you, Cloud."

What?

"You've been shit on and knocked down your whole life, and you still get up and keep chugging on ahead," he said, staring into my eyes. "You have to be the man of the house as well as a student, deal with house payments and medical payments… take care of your Mom… And what am I doing? I'm freaking out over a proposal and if I can live up to what a bunch of experts think about me."

It was my turn to be silent.

"I've been pushing you into the spotlight, and I'm sorry if you think you're not ready for that yet. But I think you are ready. I think you're scared, though. Scared to have everything go to shit again. But I promise you something, Cloud. You're my best friend. And I'm pushing you because I know that you're going to be great. Whether its with Tifa or with football or with school or painting or whatever…"

His next words resonated with me.

"You will be great."

I paused, taking it all in. Venting everything out made me feel better, but Zack's words made me feel infinitely better. Was he just saying it to boost my ego? I didn't know. But it made me feel…

Good.

"Sorry," I muttered, as Zack reached into his backseat, tossing me a beer. He shrugged, popping open his own.

"You had a lot on your plate, it's good to get that off the chest every once in a while."

I walked toward Zack, sitting on the hood of his idling car with him. We drank our beers in silence for a few moments.

"Johnny."

"What?"

"It was Johnny," I admitted, finishing my beer and tossing it on the side of the road. Zack stared at me, before pounding the rest of his and tossing it off the side of the road as well.

"Let's kick the shit out of him."

It was a silent, mutual agreement. As we sat under the stars, on the hood of Zack's still-idling car, drinking a beer.

It was the best time I've had in a while.

* * *

><p><strong>NEXT TIME ON FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS: <strong>Cloud and Zack plan to get revenge on Johnny, both off and on the football field as their opponents this week is Junon High School. Homecoming week follows, and our football players worry more about finding dates and getting lucky than the traditional football game.


	5. Five

**V**

Zack's car sped off into the night, leaving me standing awkwardly on the curb outside of my house. I watched his brake lights disappear into the night, before turning toward my house.

I didn't go in, though. I stood, staring at the dark windows and faded siding. I went toward the side, crossing the dead grass and passing the garbage cans. A foul odor wafted into my swollen nose. The old bark crunched underneath my shoes as I emerged into the backyard. An old tree, bark rotten and dead, stood proudly in the center of the small backyard. A tire swing hung limply in the night air, rotten rope barely supporting the warped rubber.

An old, busted panel of chain link fence, courtesy of the remodel on the high school about five years ago, was propped up and wedged into the dirt behind the tree. A sun-faded mesh bag sat on the ground. I leaned over, pulling the bag open, and analyzed the contents for the umpteenth time in my life.

A wide assortment of footballs, in varying size and condition, sat in the bottom of the bag. I reached inside, grabbing one that was rather flat. I tossed that one aside, grabbing another one and glancing up at the tire. I set my feet, hopping on the balls of my feet lightly, and then stepped forward, arm pulling forward.

Whoosh!

The ball hissed through the air, as the tight spiral clearly passed through the hole in the tire, impacting the chain link fence behind it, sending the pig skin to the ground as the chain rattled. I reached down, grabbing another football, bringing it up and firing. The ball flew through the tire, rattling the fence.

I grunted, as I fired another ball. And another. And another. I focused my anger into each ball I threw, accuracy and force growing greater and greater as I threw the ball over and over again, sending the ball spiraling through the tire with ease.

I fired the last ball, smashing against the chain link fence, and became aware of the scream that was echoing from my throat. What had started as grunts had eventually evolved into a full-on wordless howl. I closed my mouth, panting softly, sweat streaking down my face. Cool air began to sink into my skin, and I shuddered, turning back toward my house.

A single light was on, in the kitchen, and the silhouette of Mom stood in stark contrast to the yellow light around her. I put my hands on my hips, breath still coming in short gasps.

I slowly made my way through the back door, avoiding Mom, who continued to stand at the window, staring outside silently. The floorboards creaked underneath my feet as I made my way to my room, closed the door and threw myself onto my bed.

I didn't bother turning off the light.

* * *

><p>"Oh my God, Cloud," Aerith covered her mouth with a hand. "What happened to your face?"<p>

"Nothin'," I muttered, finishing my sandwich quickly and leaving the table. I saw Zack shake his head out of the corner of my eye, but quickly separated myself from my friends. I weaved through the halls quickly, keeping my head down. Moving in front of my locker, I twisted the combination, pulling open the metal door.

The door stuck.

I sighed, twisting the combination again and pulling the door open. It did this time, giving me access to the contents within.

A few papers fell out, and I shoved them back in quickly, grabbing my book and heading right to my class.

I made my way to the back right corner, like usual, and sat down, pulling my hood over my head. The class was empty while it was still lunch, so I had the room to myself.

Perfect.

I looked down at my textbook, considering opening it.

Ha. Yeah right.

The door opened, and I glanced up, watching Tifa enter the room, and walk right toward me. I glanced down.

She sat on the desk right next to mine, staring at me.

"Cloud."

"Tifa."

Silence. I couldn't tell if she was mad or worried.

"Cloud…" she repeated, reaching out and pulling my hood down. She gasped at the sight of my face. I looked to the carpet on my left, away from her.

"Don't worry about it, Tifa," I muttered.

"Looks like you got it a little worse," Tifa muttered, reaching in her purse for a can of soda fresh from the vending machine. She extended it toward me.

I glanced at it, looking up at her. Her face betrayed no emotion.

"What are you talking about?" I relented, grabbing the can and putting it over my swollen eye.

"I'm not stupid, Cloud," she said coolly.

"I guess not," I muttered. "He thought you and I were…"

I swallowed.

"Well… you know," I finished lamely.

"Johnny was being stupid," she said, sighing and brushing her hair aside. "He's never acted like this before. I think the long distance thing is getting to him. And… you know, pressure from football and the SAT and stuff."

"Sounds like you're defending him," I grunted. Tifa looked at me.

"He's my boyfriend, Cloud."

"Is he going to keep kicking the shit out of me when I talk to you?"

"No," she looked away. "We already had a long talk about it. I told him you and I were just friends."

Just friends.

"I heard from Aerith that there's a big partner project coming up in this class."

"Yeah, Zack said it was a nightmare."

"We should be partners."

"Will Johnny be alright with that?" I teased, a half smile forming on my face. I cracked the top of the soda.

"Shut up," she laughed, laying a hand on my shoulder. It stayed there for an extended period of time, before she pulled it away quickly, as if she finally realized what she was doing.

Awkward.

* * *

><p>Zack stared Johnny down.<p>

Their faces were both neutral, but the message was clear.

Fuck you.

Zack broke the eye contact first, glancing to his left.

"White three-three!" he audibled, yelling down the white-jersey wearing line toward Sephiroth. "White three-three!"

Sephiroth nodded, running own the line and lining up on the opposite side, directly in front of me.

My black eye had evolved into a very attractive yellowish color throughout the week, and the "injuries" I had made it very easy for Coach to quickly put me on injured reserve. So, I wasn't even suited up this game. My jersey was on over a hooded sweatshirt, with the hood up, of course, and a pair of sweatpants. I stood on the sideline, alongside Kunsel, who was giving the signs today. The loud cheering and screaming from the Junon student section was annoyingly loud, as if they actually believed they could beat us.

If it bothered Zack, he paid it no mind, leaning in close and calling the audible to each of the linemen, so they wouldn't give us a needless penalty.

Sephiroth pointed to the ref, checking that he was perfectly in line with the line of scrimmage. He was, getting cleared as Zack took a few steps back to shotgun formation. Zack took the snap, instantly running full-bore into the breach of the line. The linemen shoved the Junon aside enough for Zack to plow through the hole, running downfield with the quarterback keeper.

The student section moaned with disappointment as Zack broke free from containment and ran easily for a first down. Our sideline ran along with him, shouting words of encouragement from out of bounds.

But then he broke to the right, as if he were dodging an imaginary defender, and ran.

Right where Johnny had dropped back into coverage. Johnny braced himself as Zack lowered his shoulder.

With an audible pop that resonated throughout the stadium, Zack ran Johnny over, knocking the larger linebacker to the turf and continuing toward the end zone without so much as a stumble.

Zack scored easily, and I couldn't help but smile as Johnny pulled himself to the turf, both his body and pride hurting after being dominated by Zack so easily. Boos began cascading from the stands, as Junon's head coach pleaded to the head referee that Zack should definitely be flagged for unnecessary roughness.

The rest of the game continued in that fashion, Zack went out of his way to make Johnny's life as big of hell as humanely possible. It ranged from "overthrowing" Sephiroth's pass across the middle, so the receiver had to play defense and take out Johnny who had the best play on the ball, to decleating him with a block as Rude ran down the sideline.

Johnny gamely pulled himself to his feet every time, but he got up slower and slower as the hits went on.

Then, in the fourth quarter, Zack stood next to me as Junon punted the ball away.

"We're gonna get him this time," he said, no emotion on his face as he watched the Junon kicker launch the ball skyward.

"I think you've got him enough, Zack."

"Watch this," Zack pulled his helmet on and jogged onto the field, putting an arm around Sephiroth as they went to the huddle. I saw Sephiroth nod his head, head bobbing as he chuckled.

Damn, that guy was evil.

Zack spent very little time in the huddle, moving all of the linemen and receivers into position. Zack stood alone in the backfield, glancing at Sephiroth on the far right side and nodding, before getting the ball hiked to him. Ricky ran a ten-yard cross route, ten yards out and then running across the middle, as Johnny dropped back into zone coverage.

Zack threw, the ball sailing over Ricky's head and right into Johnny's hands.

Instantly the student section erupted, as Johnny began running it back.

But none of the Nibelheim players really pursued. They all worried about blocking the other Junon defenders.

Except for Zack and Sephiroth.

Being the two fastest players out there, it was easy to get an angle on Johnny as he ran near the sideline.

Sephiroth struck first.

He went low, throwing his shoulder at Johnny's shins. He impacted the linebacker's shins right in the center of his shoulder pad, sending Johnny toppling forward.

Then Zack came flying in.

Zack didn't go for the tackle, he went for the decleating highlight hit.

And he knew what he was doing.

As Johnny toppled forward, Zack lowered his shoulder and crushed Johnny, lowering his head and delivering a helmet-to-helmet hit that shook the foundations of the stadium.

Instantly the stadium went silent, as Johnny toppled to the ground, like a puppet with its strings cut. The football bounced away from Johnny's limp form as he collapsed in a heap, and it was recovered by Rude. Sephiroth got to his feet as Zack took a few steps back, as yellow flags came flying in from every direction.

Zack and Sephiroth walked away as the Junon trainers ran toward Johnny's corpse, at least, that's what it looked like. Everyone was too caught up in the moment to notice a discrete fist bump between Zack and Sephiroth.

Jesus they killed the guy!

One of the trainers pulled out some smelling salts, wafting them under Johnny's nose. His parents came down from the stands, followed quickly by Tifa. Johnny stirred, first moving his fingers and then his feet. He was helped to his feet, and moved gingerly to the sideline.

He didn't return for the rest of the game.

* * *

><p>We left the locker room after the victory, which was dampened by the tirade Coach unleashed on Zack for his hit, heading quickly toward the buses. The majority of the Junon fans had gone home, dejected, after the loss, but there were still quite a few of Nibelheim fans. They lined the path we walked to the bus, high fiving us and applauding politely.<p>

Zack kissed Aerith, as Reno and Rufus disappeared within the bus.

"Tifa," I said, noticing her standing next to Aerith. "How's Johnny?"

"Fine," she said, with a shrug. "He just got knocked out for a few seconds. No real brain damage... not like there was much to damage anyway."

I chuckled wryly, scratching the back of my head. The majority of our team had entered the bus, and most of the fans had gone their own way.

"Tifa!"

Speak of the bloody devil… Jesus, why do I never have any luck?

"Johnny, you sure you should be walking around?"

"What the fuck are you doing with them?" Johnny demanded, flanked with two guys that I recognized from when their fists met my face. I set my jaw, squeezing my fist tight enough to pop knuckles.

"I'm talking to my friends," Tifa said, as Zack softly but defensively pushed Aerith behind him. "Why do you have a problem with that all of a sudden? Jesus."

"I don't have a problem with that," Johnny said, pointing at Sephiroth and Zack. "Just with these two, and especially with fucking him."

He pointed at me last of all, and I set a strong look on my face.

"Who the hell are you to tell me who to see?"

"Cloud," Zack said to me, nudging me. "Just get on the bus."

I nodded, heading that way. Johnny noticed.

"Yeah run on back to your mama, Strife. I don't blame your dad for ditching out on that insane bitch. Should lock her ass up in an insane asylum."

I paused, halfway on the bus.

"Shut up Johnny!" Aerith yelled.

"Crazy fuckin' bitch, no wonder she birthed a fuckin' retard like you."

I don't know what happened. I snapped.

"Cloud!" Zack called, as I ran off the bus, heading right toward Johnny.

It didn't matter that he was about three inches taller and sixty pounds heavier than I was, I only saw red.

I spear tackled Johnny, sending him to the pavement. His buddies were either two shocked or too afraid to come to Johnny's aid. I started swinging, smashing Johnny in the face a few times before I was hauled off of him by Zack and Sephiroth.

"You mother fucker!" I was screaming. "You son of a fucking bitch! Talk about my mom like that again and I'll fucking kill you! I'll fucking kill you!"

Zack grabbed me strongly, hauling me and shoving me unceremoniously onto the bus and down into a seat. Zack sat down next to me, yelling at the bus driver to get us out of here. He obliged, as I continued yelling out the open window at the bloodied and battered Johnny, who was being helped to his feet by his buddies. Tifa was being led away by Aerith, not sparing a backwards glance toward Johnny.

* * *

><p>"Are you fucking kidding me?"<p>

Zack, Sephiroth and I sat in Coach's office, in uncomfortable fold up chairs across the desk from Coach. He was pissed, I could basically see the steam coming from his ears.

"You two," he addressed Zack and Sephiroth. "I expected this sort of thing from Strife, but you two better get your shit in check. You're lucky I don't suspend you two."

It went without saying that I was already suspended.

"And Strife, you're lucky I don't kick your ass off this team."

"Coach, he was bad mouthing Cloud's mom," Zack spoke up. Coach sighed, sitting down at his desk.

"Be that as it may, you still have to show some restraint."

Fuck you, you would react the same way. I kept my poker face on, however. Berate me all you want, Coach, you can't break me.

"I should suspend you all for a game and prevent you from going to homecoming," Coach started, holding up a hand for silence as Sephiroth opened his mouth to protest. "But, since it doesn't seem that Junon is going to press charges or delve into the matter, you're getting off with a warning this time."

We all stood up at those words, chairs scratching against the ground. Hey, if you hear what you want, you get out of there, right?

I left the office quickly, heading out of the locker room, grabbing my helmet off of the bench in front of my locker and walking out into the sunlight. I ended up behind Reno and Rude, who were talking animatedly.

Well. Reno was talking, Rude was listening.

"Hey, Scarlet," Reno greeted the cheerleader as she and her girls left the women's locker room. "I got a question for ya'."

"What's up?"

"Let's go to homecoming."

Scarlet stopped, hands on her hips, blowing a lock of blonde hair out of her face.

"You're kidding me."

"I know, I know," Reno gestured with his hands. Was asking someone really this easy? "I would be shocked if I was asked by a handsome, suave man like myself-"

"First off, Reno," Scarlet huffed. "That wasn't a question. And second off I'm already going with someone."

"Bullshit."

"Bullshit nothing, Reno. Maybe you shouldn't take me for granted."

"I know Sephiroth stopped plowing you a week or two ago, so who else would you go with?"

A few cheerleaders turned their nose up at Reno and walked out to the field, as Scarlet turned back to Reno, poking him hard in the middle of his chest.

"Not that it's any of your business, but Reeve Tuesti asked me."

"Reeve?" Reno's jaw dropped. Rude blinked. "Tuesti?"

"If you must know… he's been tutoring me," Scarlet said over her shoulder as she walked to the field. "And he asked me in the sweetest way. Maybe you should learn something from him."

Reno and Rude stared after Scarlet. Maybe asking someone to homecoming isn't that easy. Reno turned to Rude, pulling his helmet on his head.

"What the fuck?"

We made our way out to the football field, taking footballs offered to us by Coach Taylor and getting in line for a ball carrying drill. Reno went off his own way, to kick some field goals.

"Cloud," Rufus made small talk as I stood behind him in line. No pads today, just a helmet, t-shirt and athletic shorts. "Who you taking to homecoming?"

"Haven't thought about it," I responded with a shrug. That was a boldfaced lie. I had been thinking about it for a long time.

Tifa.

"Well, if you find someone, I figure you can work your way in our group."

"I figure Zack would've invited me anyway but thanks, Rufus," I said, catching the football that was tossed at me. "… Who are you taking?"

"Tifa."

What?

"What do you mean?"

"She dumped Johnny's dumb ass," Rufus said, spinning the football on his fingers.

She dumped him?

"Have you asked her yet?" I asked, my pulse picking up a bit.

"Nah," Rufus said dismissively. "Gonna let her stew a bit, I think I've already hinted enough at it. I mean, you're cool with it, right? I know you two are pretty buddy-buddy."

"Actually…" I started, but Rufus ran through the gauntlet, arms tucked over the ball protectively as players hit him with large rubber blocks to simulate getting tackled. "… I was planning on taking her…"

* * *

><p>"Yeah, she told Aerith that they broke up," Zack said, throwing the football at me in his backyard. I snagged it. "All the shit he did to you didn't sit right with her."<p>

"She said we were friends," I responded, firing the ball back at Zack. "I think that's all she considers me. Stuck in the friend zone."

"Bullshit, man," Zack responded, stutter-stepping softly, and flipped the ball to me like a pitch. "You can't fall into that trap so easily, and besides…"

He grinned, as I tossed him the ball.

"I know something you don't know," he said in a singsong voice.

"Pray tell, what is it?" I asked dully.

"Don't worry about it," Zack grinned. "Just trust me on this one. You're asking her before Rufus does. And I'll deal with it."

"Last time you dealt with it, you almost killed a guy."

"He deserved it."

"From the way you're talking, so do I."

"You do deserve it," Zack laughed. "But not in the way Johnny did. You aren't going to get your shit rocked, just your world, baby."

The ball skipped off of my fingers as an image popped into my head, unbidden. Tifa… squirming beneath me… face twisted in pleasure…

Zack laughed, as the ball bounced across the yard, my face slowly heating up. I turned, walking over to the ball and picking it up, flipping it in the air and letting it fall back into my hands.

"Cloud, can I ask you something?"

I shrugged, throwing the football across the yard to Zack. He caught it, bringing it close to his body.

"Hey, do you actually like playing football?"

I cocked an eyebrow.

"Where did that come from?"

That question seriously came out of left field.

"Do you?"

"Well," I paused, thinking about my answer. "… You're seriously asking me this?"

Zack nodded, spinning the football.

"Yeah, Zack. Yeah I do."

"Good."

The ball whizzed pass me, bouncing across the yard again.

"Good? That's it?" I asked, not caring that the ball came inches from the side of my face.

Zack shrugged, leaving me very confused.

* * *

><p>A knock came at our door, causing me to jump slightly. I brushed down my solid blue shirt, I was told it brings out my eyes, and walked out of my room and down the hall, toward the front door. I pulled it open, seeing none other than Tifa standing behind the screen.<p>

"Hey," I greeted, voice calm and level while my heart beat wildly. Tifa was about to be in my house.

"Hey, Cloud," she greeted, as I opened the screen door for her. She walked in, tight jeans hugging every curve of her hips and tucked into shin-high boots. A tight, low cut shirt was on under her beige jacket, revealing every bit of her… assets.

Her eyes darted around, I'm sure she thought that it was secretly, but I spotted it clearly. She was too nice to bring up the fact that I lived in a shitty house, in the poorest part of town, but I could tell she was analyzing it.

"Come on," I motioned for her to follow me out of the living room, leading her to my room. Mom was taking a nap, so it was easy to avoid questions and accusations.

I lead her in, pulling out my desk chair and offering her the seat. Tifa set her purse on it, looking intently at the various posters and pictures that were tacked on my walls.

"So I think we should start with simply outlining our idea for the project," I started, sitting down on my bed and pulling open a spiral notebook. "Set goals for ourself and all… I mean, we're supposed to create the perfect government… whatever that means…"

I looked up, noticing that she was preoccupied by reading a newspaper clipping prominently displayed in the center of my wall.

"Cloud, this is amazing," she said, continuing to read. I didn't need to look at it, I knew what that clipping said by heart.

Nibelheim Middle School quarterback Cloud Strife, 15, set national records today in touchdowns thrown in a season, yards passed in a season and touchdown to interception ratio in a season.

The previous records were held by Nibelheim Middle School's own Zack Fair.

"You set all of these records?"

"Yeah."

"National records, Cloud. These aren't state, these are national records…"

"I know, Tifa."

"You're the best middle school quarterback in history."

"Doesn't transfer into high school playing time. How about we actually focus on…"

I trailed off, staring out the dirty window.

Zack was standing there, grinning widely and waving wildly.

"Focus on what?"

"Hang on a sec," I muttered, leaving my room. "Make yourself comfortable, I'll be right back."

I tossed open the back screen door, heading outside into the backyard, where Zack and Sephiroth stood.

"What's up bro?" I greeted, slapping my hand together with his.

"Perfect opportunity to ask Tifa to homecoming."

"Dude, we're doing a project," I muttered, scratching the back of my head. Honestly, I was grasping at any single excuse I could muster.

"Enough," Sephiroth said coldly. "Stop making excuses."

I glared at him.

"Here," Zack whipped a package out from behind his back. A dozen red roses, extremely fresh and vibrant. So. That's one way to impress Tifa.

My hands trembled slightly, reaching out for the stems of the roses. Zack handed them to me, and I wrapped my hands around the protective plastic wrap that defended against the thorns. Zack grabbed a pair of construction paper signs on the ground, handing one to Sephiroth. The silver-haired man took it begrudgingly, his biceps bulging the sleeves of his t-shirt.

"Wait for the signal," Zack laughed. "And you'll get your woman."

I nodded dumbly, butterflies floating around in my stomach. Oh God this is actually going to happen…

I walked back inside the house, hearing pots and pans clattering together.

Mom was up.

I heard Tifa laugh, entering the kitchen to find her sitting at the table, a cup of juice in front of her. Mom was hard at work, scrubbing away at an already clean frying pan while telling an apparently comical story. Probably about me.

"Cloud!" Mom greeted. "I Just met your friend, Tifa!"

"Yeah, I can tell," I responded, leaning against the doorjamb, hand holding the roses lazily hidden behind the door. At least Mom was well medicated today. I had to stall until she went to bed-

A pair of knocks came on the kitchen window.

So much for that plan.

Tifa and Mom glanced over, eyes instantly darting to the bright signs that Zack and Sephiroth held up to the glass. Tifa laughed, reading the signs out loud.

"If you went to homecoming with me," she giggled. "You would be the sun on my CLOUDy day."

She turned to me, smiling. I sighed, rolling my eyes slightly. The roses came into view, causing an audible intake of air that came from both Tifa and Mom.

"Well…" I muttered, scratching the back of my head. Zack started laughing and ducked out of view, dragging Sephiroth with him. "Will you?"

"Cloud…" Tifa murmured. "Kind of a cheesy way to ask."

"Yeah…"

Silence overtook the kitchen.

"Yeah," Tifa smiled, standing up and taking the roses. "I mean yes. Yes, Cloud."

A small smile twitched at my lips, as Tifa hugged me.

Mom started applauding. Like it was a live stage performance.

* * *

><p>The homecoming game on Friday was so one-sided in favor of Nibelheim, it wasn't even funny. Even with our focus on the dance and subsequent alcohol abuse afterward, the team still blew out Rocket Town. Of course, I was suspended, so once again I was in sweats and a sweatshirt on the sideline, applauding politely at halftime as Zack and Aerith were announced as homecoming King and Queen.<p>

Big shocker there.

I stood in front of the full length mirror in my room, trying for the sixth time to tie the necktie slung loosely around my collar. The rented black blazer was spread out on my bed, the pocket square matching the color of my baby blue tie.

I glanced at my old computer screen, internet open to a YouTube video of how to tie a tie, following the step by step instructions.

Friggin' finally.

I tightened the knot, closing it up against my neck. I tucked the tie into the vest around my abs, before grabbing the jacket and throwing it over my shoulders. I grabbed the bottle of Blizzaga Vodka off of my dresser and left my room, turning the light off.

"Mom, I'm gonna be staying the night over at Reno's," I said, walking past her, seated in her armchair and watching the television. "Don't wait up. Your medicine is on the table in the Dixie cups."

"Have fun," she said. "Treat her nice. It may be cold tonight, be sure to offer her your jacket."

"Thanks, Mom."

I left our house, walking into the cool night air. Zack's Camaro was idling on the curb, waiting for me to climb in. I did, pounding my fist with Zack, his red tie in stark contrast to my light blue one.

No words were spared, as Zack went way over the speed limit, driving to his house. He swung into his driveway, already overflowing with cars. We were a bit behind schedule, thanks to me owning no car and Zack having to come pick me up.

We walked around the side of his house, heading into the backyard where a variety of people were already standing. All of the guys in our group, matching suits but different colored ties, were mingling with the girls, all of their dresses matching the color of the tie that their own date was wearing.

And there she was. My heart picked up a little bit as I tossed the fifth of Blizzaga into the bushes on the side of Zack's house. A clinking sound filled the air, as it smashed into another bottle. Or two.

Tifa was wearing a baby blue gown, cascading down her body and hugging it tightly in all of the right places. Her normally straight brown hair was curled, bouncing as she laughed along with Aerith. Zack's girlfriend had a bright red dress on, the pink ribbon that Zack had won her at the local fair a few years back, held her hair up.

Reno was already hard at work making out with the girl from his house party, getting a few disapproving stares from the parents that were around the yard.

"Cloud!"

I walked over to Tifa, giving her a hug.

"Where're your parents?" I asked, looking around. Her smile faltered a bit.

"They're… busy. They're just going to get pictures from Aerith's parents."

"Oh."

From that point on, it was a flurry of pictures and pinning flowers onto the lapels of the guys and sliding corsages onto the wrists of girls, the flowers color coordinating their dates.

I thought it was kind of stupid, all of this color coordinating… it's like whoever invented this idea was expecting us to forget who our dates were. Not only are our ties supposed to match the dresses of our dates, but the flowers too?

Weird.

We all piled into the large Hummer limo, recovering our alcohol from the bushes outside of Zack's house, and laughed as the car sped off, parents waving and taking pictures of the disappearing stretch car.

"Let's get bombed!" Zack yelled, toasting with his fifth of Firaga Rum. Instantly bottles went up, as all of us laughed, drinking straight from the bottles and passing it to our dates.

Tifa tossed her head back, drinking a bit, before coughing and passing the bottle back to me. I grinned.

"Too much?"

She nodded, wiping a hand over her mouth. I reached into my coat, pulling out a small jug of orange juice, offering it to her. She took it with a laugh.

"I guess I'm not as hardcore as you guys yet," she said, pouring some of the vodka into the orange juice bottle and shaking it up.

Zack and Aerith. Sephiroth and Elena. Reno and that chick. Rufus and some girl I'd never met. Scarlet and Reeve. Rude and some girl that was in my Spanish class, but never caught her name. Ricky and a cheerleader.

Our group was universally beloved for being on the football team. But we were also universally hated because we were the biggest group of alcoholics in the school.

Something we planned on proving tonight.

Drinks flowed, and most of the bottles were gone by the time we reached Junon, where the closest restaurant that wasn't on first name basis with us was. We stumbled out of the limo, laughing and supporting each other. Tifa had her arms slung around my waist, walking with me and laughing at our predicament.

I don't remember what I ate for dinner, or what the interior of the restaurant looked like. I think we were asked to never come back.

We all clambered back into the limo, driving back to Nibelheim for the dance. Sephiroth produced a half-gallon of Thundaga Whiskey, passing it around the limo. Tifa was having no problem taking straight pulls from the source. Even Reeve was smiling widely, telling a joke that Rufus was laughing loudly at. His shy ways a thing of the past.

Speaking of shy ways…

I tossed my arm over Tifa's shoulders, as she leaned back against me, head on my chest.

We hopped out of the limo outside of the school. Reno fell over, and was helped to his feet by Sephiroth. The Principal, Vice Principal and several teachers were standing outside, staring at us. Reno leaned over and vomited on the concrete.

"Must've ate something bad at dinner," Zack laughed, clapping the Principal on the shoulder. "We won't be going back there!"

He took Aerith's hand, leading her into the dance. I turned toward Tifa, alcohol making my head swim.

"Will you accompany me to this dance?" I asked Tifa, extending my hand toward her. She laughed, taking it, and dragging me into the gym. The lights were low, and decorations covered the walls and hung from the ceiling. Tifa dragged me right to the dance floor, right next to Zack and Aerith.

"Tifa, wait," I said, but my complaints were lost over the pounding bass and loud music.

I didn't know how to dance.

She spun around, her back facing me, and started swaying her hips in time with the music. I stood there stupidly for a moment, watching her shake her hips, as she turned her head and smiled at me, gesturing with her head.

Okay. I can do this. I glanced over at Zack, who was dancing all over Aerith.

I started stepping, in time with the bass, moving my hips back and forth awkwardly. Tifa laughed at me again, turning around and strutting toward me. She turned around, backing up against me. I took a step back, but Tifa followed, the curves of her ass resting right on… Southern Cloud.

Oh boy.

She started moving, grinding against me, grabbing my hands and putting them on the side of her hips. She threw her head back, eyes closed and mouth slightly open as she moved along with the music.

Hell, this was much easier than dancing by yourself.

I felt the subtle movements in her hips, matching them with my own.

She left me, turning around and facing me, a strange gleam in her eyes.

"Tifa…"

She wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me close.

Oh God.

OH GOD.

WHAT DO I DO.

Her face tilted slightly to the side, eyes closing slightly as her lips parted a bit. She leaned in…

GO FOR IT CLOUD.

I brought my face to hers, lips touching briefly, hesitantly. I saw Zack, pointing at us, nudging Aerith, mouth slightly open. She clapped her hands together as Zack fist pumped like he was Tiger-fucking-Woods.

I pulled back, testing the waters. Apparently our first kiss was fine by Tifa, since she pulled my head in for a deeper kiss. I felt her tongue outside my mouth, opening it slightly, allowing it access. Damn, she knew what she wanted.

Cloud Strife, you have moved up the depth chart. To first string ladies man.

* * *

><p>Tifa and I were laying down on the old futon in Reno's house. The man himself was passed out in his recliner, bong in one hand and a beer in the other. Aerith and Zack and Sephiroth and Elena had already disappeared upstairs, and every once in a while a moan from Aerith would squeak through the floorboards.<p>

"Cloud."

"Hmm?"

Tifa looked up from where she was resting her head on my chest.

"We can't do this."

"What?" I was legitimately confused.

"Cloud, I just broke up with my boyfriend. We can't have sex."

"What?" my mouth went dry.

"I do like you…" she put her head back on my chest. "But I'm… just kind of messed up right now."

"Oh, no," I said quickly. "I never wanted to… you know… well, I did… but not right now… I mean, it's cool if we don't… Reno is sleeping right there after all."

She brought her head back up and kissed me softly again.

"You're too nice," she muttered, glancing over at Reno, and then back at me, an evil smile on her face. "… How quiet can you be?"

"What?" I cocked an eyebrow, as Tifa, still smiling wickedly, disappeared under the covers. She kissed every ab, working her way down.

My belt was yanked out of my pants, before they were unceremoniously pulled off and tossed across the room.

"Tifa, what are you- oh, wow."

* * *

><p><strong>NEXT TIME ON FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS:<strong> Cloud Strife's life is changed forever.


	6. Six

**VI**

The locker room was silent, not even Reno was singing today. In fact, he was re-lacing his kicking shoe for the sixth time already. Practice this week was intense, even if the coaches would have been silent the entire time. Zack was especially intense, staying late to watch film and have discussions with the coaches, while I sat out in the locker room doing my homework.

We played Modeoheim tonight, the second best team in the state and on the rise. Led by triplets, as weird as that was, Loz, Yazoo and Kadaj, they were all extremely talented football players. Rumor was they were Sephiroth's cousins, but no one bothered to check in on that one. They were all Juniors as well, giving them one more year of eligibility after the majority of our team graduated.

Which meant I would be facing them again next year.

I pulled my pads over my head, buckling my flak jacket around my torso. The roar of the fans in the stands was audible, even in the brick-walled locker room. Everyone was excited about this game, and both small towns ended up completely shutting down. Both mayors had even planned a friendly wager, involving cows or some other such nonsense.

It had been a week since Tifa and I had hooked up, and while she was drunk and made a bad decision, we had decided to tentatively start seeing each other. Which meant nothing really changed in our relationship at all, just basically that we kissed now. Since I was so busy between the project and practice, there was no sex and no more fooling around.

I glanced at Zack, headphones in his ears, wrapping athletic tape around his wrists, bobbing his head with the music. He was lost to the world, thinking through the entire game plan. He had been incredibly supportive of Tifa and I's budding relationship, setting up a few fun and creative double dates for us.

But since we had super intense, ridiculous practices in order to prepare for the game, there wasn't that much time for Tifa and I to hang out. She was supportive, of course, but since we weren't officially boyfriend and girlfriend yet, it wasn't like she could make a big deal about it. Especially because she knew how stressed we were about this game.

Zack pulled his pads on, as I grabbed my black jersey, which got more use by Tifa than me these last two weeks, and put it on, tucking it in my pants, reaching into my locker for the small jar of eye black. I dipped my fingers into the liquid, streaking it under my eyes.

"_This is the big one tonight, folks. Modeoheim is just as legit and just as good as Nibelheim."_

"_That's right, Bob. If Nibelheim isn't careful, they may find the number one ranking in the state torn out from under them."_

"_Luckily for the Dragons, Modeoheim is just as young on the offensive side of the ball as Nibelheim is on the defensive side, their real strength lies within their defense and the outstanding play of the Remnant triplets; Loz, Yazoo and Kadaj."_

"_Strange names there, Bob-o."_

"_Fair is going to have his hands full with the blitz-happy linebacker Loz, while Yazoo and Kadaj will likely double team and lock down Safer Sephiroth."_

Sephiroth and the receivers, including Reeve, were sitting around Coach Taylor, who was drawing elaborate plays on the whiteboard. We had been practicing screens and blocking schemes to get Sephiroth open. Kadaj would hound him relentlessly, jamming him at the line, and then Yazoo, the safety, would help him over the top. This meant Ricky would most likely be the number one receiver this week.

The number one jersey was pulled over Zack's pads, tucked in quickly, and then a QB wrist was slid onto his arm. Zack was silently mouthing the lyrics of the song, bobbing his head and letting the music pump him up.

"_It's going to be quite the game tonight, Nibelheim's offense led by Zack Fair, going against the Modeoheim defense."_

Zack ripped the ear buds out of his ears, tucking his iPod safely into his locker. He grabbed his helmet, brushing past Coach and out the door of the locker room. Coach glanced at all of us, silent and suited up, mentally preparing for tonight's game. He nodded, adjusting his ball cap.

"Let's go."

"_The students are getting loud tonight!"_

The roar of the student section was audible in the tunnel, as I pulled my helmet on over my head, bobbing my head. My heart was pounding, as I clenched and unclenched my hands nervously. Rude hopped alongside me, going from one foot to the other. Zack stood at the head of the pack.

"_Here come the Dragons!"_

"Let's go!" Sephiroth yelled, and at his command, the team sprinted forward, running through a large, painted piece of butcher paper covering the exit of the tunnel. The students screamed as we ran out, the fight song from the band nearly drowned out by the noise. I felt the energy of the crowd surge through me, running alongside the sideline. Players jumped, shoulder checking each other, head butting, slapping each other… anything we could do to get pumped up.

Boos cascaded across the field, as Modeoheim headed out of the tunnel, jogging along to the other sideline.

"_The captains are heading to the center of the field now."_

Yazoo, Kadaj, Loz and some other guy broke off from their team and walked to the center of the field, where all of the zebra-print wearing referees were standing. Zack, Sephiroth, Rude and Rufus lined up, taking each others hands and walked out to the fifty yard line as well.

Jesus. Loz was a giant! Not only tall, he was incredibly muscular, making Sephiroth look like a sissy girl who had never seen a gym in his entire life.

The coin flipped through the air, landing on the turf. The head ref pointed in direction of Modeoheim, as the boos from the student section returned.

"_It looks like Modeoheim is electing to kick."_

Loz grinned, motioning that he wanted to kick the ball away.

So he was going to test Zack right away. Interesting choice, bro.

The captains shook each others hands, turning their backs to each other and walking back to the sidelines. Zack held his hands up, motioning for us all to gather around him.

"Listen the fuck up!" Zack yelled, taking his helmet off, as we gathered around hopping on the balls of our feet. "What time is it?"

"Game time!"

"What time is it?"

"Game time!"

"Listen up! They came here, to OUR HOUSE, to try to embarrass us, ON OUR TURF!" Zack yelled, gesturing madly. "Some people say that this is just a game. That we give too much of our blood, sweat and tears for this stupid game. It's just a competition, right? WRONG! It's more than a stupid game! Today, we go to war! Today, we give everything we have, for SIXTY GODDAMN MINUTES! I want you to empty the tank! I WANT YOU TO LEAVE IT ALL ON THE TURF! Let's FUCKING RUIN THEM!"

The team jumped around, adrenaline flowing through our veins.

"WHO ARE WE?" Zack yelled, veins bulging in his neck.

"NIBELHEIM!"

"WHO ARE WE?"

"NIBELHEIM!"

"DRAGONS, WHAT DO YOU BELIEVE?"

"I BELIEVE THAT WE WILL WIN!" the team screamed, jumping up and down, holding our helmets above our hands. The student section started jumping and chanting as well. "I BELIEVE THAT WE WILL WIN! I BELIEVE THAT WE WILL WIN! I BELIEVE THAT WE WILL WIN!"

"LET'S GOOOOOO!" Zack screamed, throwing his head back and roaring at the sky. Rude took a knee, helmet on, giving a quick prayer for strength, as the kick recovery team jogged out to the field. Zack jumped up and down on the sideline, jogging in place, bobbing his head as he pulled his helmet on.

The Modeoheim kicker sent a booming kick, caught by the return man in the endzone. He took a knee, and Zack turned to Coach.

"Let's fuck 'em up," Coach spat. "Shotgun, five wide, curl drag. Curl drag!"

Zack jogged out to the field, heading to the huddle. Like usual, he stayed in the huddle briefly, calling the play and spreading the offense out. Loz hungrily prowled the edge of the line of scrimmage, yelling obscenities at Zack as he called out the play at the line.

The ball was snapped, and Loz came forward like a hurricane, easily splitting the line and rushing Zack with reckless abandon.

"_Loz Remnant gets through the line completely untouched and brings Fair down in the backfield."_

"_You can't let him get through that easily."_

"_I guess he was right to decide to kick the ball away."_

Loz got up slowly off of Zack, walking slowly toward his side of the line of scrimmage. Sephiroth shoved him, as Loz turned around, smashing his facemask against Sephiroth's. The two players started yelling at each other, as flags came flying in and the refs broke the two up. Zack grabbed Sephiroth and basically threw him back to the huddle.

"There were two fouls on the play," the voice of the head referee came over the P.A. system. "Personal foul, unsportsmanlike conduct on number 84, offense. Personal foul, unsportsmanlike conduct on number 69, defense. Those penalties offset. Second down."

"_I think we just got a preview of what the rest of the game is going to be like, Jimbo."_

"Strife," Coach said, looking down at his play sheet. "Shotgun, four wide, Ark halfback wheel. Black-14."

I nodded, going through the signs, a few fake signs, then the T with my arms, followed by more fakes. Then I held my fingers up, a one and a four. Zack nodded, heading back to the huddle. The players clapped loudly as Zack broke the huddle, heading to the line.

The ball was snapped, and Loz was actually picked up this time, slamming into two linemen as Zack left the pocket to buy some more time. Rude released down the sideline, waving his hand before Yazoo came over to cover him.

Zack had nowhere to go with the ball, as Loz closed in. He threw it away, down the sideline and out of bounds. Zack shook his head, pulling his mouth guard out. He was close enough to Coach to get the play

"Smash corners. Shotgun, five wide, smash corners!"

"_Fair lined up in shotgun, empty backfield. The ball is snapped, Fair takes a drop, no rush from Loz Remnant at this play. Fair steps up, firing the ball toward Sephiroth… the ball is swatted down by Kadaj Remnant. And the Nibelheim offense goes three and out."_

Zack marched toward the sideline, staring at the ground. He pulled his chinstrap off roughly.

"Fuck!" he snarled, brushing past me. I stared after him, as he moved to Coach Taylor, taking his helmet off and standing next to him. I've never seen Zack like this. I walked over there with Kunsel.

"They're giving me some weird looks, things I've never seen before," Zack said, spraying water in his mouth. "A lot of motion, lots of weird blitzes and coverages. And Loz is a fucking beast."

"We'll run some motion, try to mix them up a bit," Coach Taylor said.

"_And Rufus Shinra knocks the ball away!"_

"_Nice effort by the defensive captain there! And that'll cause a three and out, and send the ball back to Nibelheim."_

The ball was kicked in the air, causing Ricky to call for the fair catch. A whistle blew, as defenders swarmed around Ricky, the receiver tossing the ball to the ref. Zack jogged out onto the field.

"_Fair gets the play from Strife, heading out to the huddle. The offense lines up, five wide, trips left. Fair lifts his leg, sending Sephiroth in motion over to the right side. Kadaj Remnant follows. The ball is snapped, Fair drops back, eluding pressure. He has Sephiroth open on the right side! His throw… is underthrown! Intercepted!" _

The stands groaned as Zack's pass was picked off by Kadaj, who started running in the opposite direction.

"Shit!" Coach yelled.

Zack frantically ran toward Kadaj, trying to cut him off.

He didn't see Loz.

With the force of a semi-truck, Loz crushed Zack, hitting him in his blind spot and sending the quarterback to the ground, bouncing and rolling wildly into our sidelines. I watched Kadaj take the pass all the way to the house, as Modeoheim's sideline celebrated wildly.

"Zack!" I yelled, leaning down over the twisted form of my best friend. His eyes were closed.

And he wasn't moving.

"Trainer!" I called, gesturing frantically for the medical staff. The students spotted Zack on the ground.

And it was incredibly silent.

The trainers ran over, crouching around Zack.

"Don't move him," one of them said, reaching into his pouch for a tab of smelling salts. He cracked it under Zack's nose, and with a sharp intake of air, Zack's eyes fluttered open. "Can you move your fingers? Move your fingers for me."

"Yeah," Zack grunted, squeezing his hands open and closed.

"Your feet now, move your feet."

Zack did, lifting them and wiggling his toes. The trainer sighed in relief, grabbing a pen flashlight out of his pouch and shining it in Zack's eyes.

"What's your name?"

"Zack… Zack Fair."

"Can you tell me where you are?"

"… I…" Zack's face scrunched in concentration. "… I don't know…"

The trainer nodded at his partner, and they hauled Zack to his feet. I turned, noticing Mr. and Mrs. Fair and Aerith coming down the stairs, heading toward Zack.

Déjà vu.

The trainers supported Zack, taking his helmet off. The head trainer turned to Zack.

"He's done for today Coach, pretty severe concussion."

Coach nodded, mouth twitching slightly.

"Strife, get loose," he commanded.

I swallowed.

The trainers walked Zack over to the bench, where his parents and Aerith quickly swarmed them. The trainers pushed them lightly away, giving Zack some space.

I grabbed my helmet, pulling it over my head and catching the ball Kunsel tossed at me. I spun it, firing a bullet back at Kunsel.

"_Scooter here on the sideline, the trainers are telling me that Zack Fair has a rather serious concussion. He will not be returning tonight."_

"…"

"… _so we'll be seeing Cloud Strife take the snaps for the rest of the night then."_

I stood next to Coach, in the center of the huddle of offensive players.

"Coach, you sure he's ready for this?" the cool voice of Sephiroth spoke up behind me. "I can take the snaps."

"We need a receiver, Safer," Coach grunted. "Alright, we're gonna go heavy-I, 42 blast. Heavy-I, 42 blast!"

"Right," I grunted, putting my mouth guard in.

"_The offense moves out to the field, no huddle. Heavy-I formation, Richardson lined up behind Strife. The ball is snapped, Strife hands it off, and Richardson is bottled up at the line of scrimmage. No gain on the play."_

"_At least Strife turned the right way on the hand off this time."_

"Huddle up!" Sephiroth called.

Fucker was taking my job.

I glanced over at the sideline, watching Kunsel go through his signs.

I swept a hand over the Nibelheim stamping on my jersey, signifying I got the signs, heading to the huddle, looking at my QB Wrist. I ran my finger down the clear plastic, finding the play that was called for.

"Ace backfield, 41 sweep. On two, on two," I ordered. "On two, on two. Ready?"

"Break!"

I squatted down behind the center, hands under his ass and ready for the snap.

"You ready for the pain train, boy?" Loz laughed from behind the defensive line, his dark visor hiding his expression from me. "Cause it's coming!"

Breathe, Cloud. Breathe.

"White twelve! White twelve!" I called. "Down, set! Hut, hut!"

The ball was shoved into my hands, and I turned, tossing the ball out to Rude as he ran toward the edge of the line, trying to get the corner and break free.

He was shut down, though, dragged down to the ground after only running a yard or so.

Damn their defense was intense.

"Run, run, run, little coward!" Loz laughed, pointing at me. "One of these times, you're gonna pass. And then you're gonna be all mine!"

I stared at him, heart rate picking up slightly. This guy terrified me.

I turned to the sideline, watching Kunsel. The third string quarterback stared at Coach for an extended period of time, before shaking his head and turning to me. I caught the chopping motion, as well as a four and a two.

Red-42 was a run play.

On a third and long.

I gave Kunsel a 'what the hell' gesture, but the sophomore shrugged and stealthily gestured at Coach.

Fuck.

I went to the huddle.

"Red-42," I said, glancing down at my QB wrist. "Shotgun, 44 dive. Shotgun, 44 dive. On one, on one. Ready?"

"Break!"

The linemen jogged to the line, as I stood next to Rude in the shotgun formation. I lifted my leg up, planting it on the ground. Rude put his hands on his knees, staring forward.

"Red-42!" I yelled. "Red-42! Set! Hut!"

The ball was snapped back to me, and I handed it off to Rude right away, who covered it protectively with his arms and started running…

… Right into Loz, who smashed Rude to the turf.

"WOO!" Loz yelled, getting up and flexing his muscles. "Stay the fuck out of my lane, bro!"

"_Three run plays and Nibelheim sets up for a punt."_

"_Not smart play calling there. Strife has proven he can throw the ball, why not turn him loose?"_

I jogged to the sideline, unbuckling my chinstrap and letting it hang limply from the bottom of my helmet. I walked past Coach, heading over to Coach Taylor, the offensive coordinator. I grasped the collar of my pads, glancing down at Taylor's play sheet. Kunsel walked over with me.

"What?" Taylor asked, noticing my stare.

"What's the plan?" I asked, looking out on the field. "We can't run the ball the whole time with Loz right there."

Taylor shrugged.

"Just stick with the game plan, Strife."

"What game plan? Throw the game away?"

"Watch your fuckin' mouth, boy," Taylor pointed warningly at me.

I shook my head, turning around and staring out at the field. The defense made a quick stand, stopping Modeoheim in just three plays. They were all pumped up, jumping around and slapping each other upside the head.

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes and exhaling loudly at the sound of the ball being punted. I watched Ricky let the ball bounce into the end zone, giving us a touchback.

Only 80 yards to go.

I buckled my chinstrap, standing next to Coach with my hands on my hips as the stands applauded and cheered. He glanced over his play sheet once, mouth in a tight line.

"41 sweep. Ace backfield," Coach said, staring out at the Modeoheim defense standing and waiting.

"Coach, we just ran that play."

"I'm in charge, Strife."

I shook my head, jogging off to the huddle.

"Coach is intent on fucking us today," I told the team, who stared at me without emotion. "He wants us to go White twelve again."

"Loz's sitting on the route," Rude said from behind his dark visor. "I can't get free."

"Ricky," I purposefully avoided talking to Sephiroth. "What's the kill play?"

"Uhh," Ricky snapped his fingers, trying to remember. I stole a glance at the play clock, counting down slowly. Hurry up. "Bubble screen. Bubble screen to Seph."

"I'll make a read, listen for the call," I said. "Trust me, we're gonna beat these guys. On two, on two. Ready?"

"Break!"

I fell in under center, as the linemen dropped down into three point stances, the center pointing out the blocking scheme.

"White twelve!" I called, shoving my mouth guard into its rightful place in my mouth. "White twelve!"

It worked. Loz recognized the play call, cheating closer to the line and moving his feet into a more athletic stance to rush through the line.

Perfect.

"Kill! Kill, kill!" I yelled, looking left and right. "Kill!"

The Modeoheim defenders looked around, confused. I'm sure it said in their game plan that I couldn't call audibles at the line, so they had no idea what to do. Loz dropped back into coverage, and then moved forward again, lost and confused.

Just the way I liked him.

"Set, hut! Hut!" I yelled, taking the ball in my hands. I took a huge drop, as the line pulled right, allowing the blitzing Modeoheim defenders to come after me.

I dropped back, allowing them to pursue me, before flinging the ball to Sephiroth, who had ran a small route on the line of scrimmage. The tall receiver snagged it in his gloved hands, turning up field and activating the after-burners. He shook off a tackle from Kadaj, before he was brought down by Yazoo.

"To the line!" I yelled, running forward and pointing madly. "Get on the line!"

I made a point not to look at the sideline, staring down at my QB wrist.

I knew the perfect play, the only play I knew like the back of my hand.

"Red twenty two!" I called, a memory flashed before my eyes. Fuck you Johnny. "Red twenty two!"

The receivers split, two to the left and two to the right, checking with the refs on the sideline. I took a few steps behind the offensive line, bringing my foot up and planting it again to signify shotgun formation. I punched downward with my right arm, moving my hands ready to catch the snap.

The punch signified to snap the ball, as the center tossed the ball backward in a perfect, tight spiral. I snagged it, turning my body and taking a step backward, bouncing on the balls of my feet. Like usual, Kadaj rocked Sephiroth at the line of scrimmage, before Sephiroth streaked up the sideline, as Yazoo dropped over the top to double team the talented receiver.

I pump faked, pretending to fire the ball deep to Sephiroth, which caused one of the linebackers to start chasing Sephiroth.

God, could they make this any easier?

I turned my head, firing the ball toward Ricky as he turned around, finishing his curl. The ball hit Ricky perfectly, as he pivoted and began to keep running.

"_That ball was on a dime!"_

"_Nibelheim is showing some signs of life! Opting to go with the no huddle is keeping the Modeoheim defense on its toes and the spread offense is allowing Cloud Strife to expose some openings!"_

I brought my hand across my neck, motioning for the team to take it easy for a few seconds. We all turned, walking toward the other end zone. The final seconds dwindled down.

"_And that's the end of the first quarter! The score, Nibelheim… zero. Modeoheim… seven."_

I walked to the sideline, pulling my chinstrap loose and walking toward Coach. He muttered something out of the corner of his mouth to Taylor, who sulked away.

"Alright, Strife," Coach spat on the ground. "You proved me wrong."

Damn straight.

"Alright, listen up!" Coach called, as all of the offense huddled up around him. "We're going strictly to a no-huddle offense! Fast, fast, fast! Don't let them sub their players out! Four wide receivers, with Rude as the lone back. Spread 'em out and burn 'em! Nibelheim on three! One, two, three!"

"Nibelheim!" we called, turning back to the field and jogging out there.

"Cloud Strife, I love you!" called a male voice from the stands, before the cheers started again.

"To the line!" I said firmly, glancing at Kunsel, who quickly gave the signs. I swept my hand across the jersey, standing beside Rude, holding my mouth guard. I glanced at my QB wrist, finger falling across the play called. "Black fifty five! Black fifty five!"

I punched my arm down, signifying the snap, and grabbed the ball as it was tossed back toward me. I faked the hand off to Rude, rolling out to the right side. I heard pounding footsteps and labored breathing behind me, closing in. I ran all the way to the sideline, before throwing the ball away out of bounds. I felt a pair of strong hands grab the back of my jersey, and the next thing I know, I was spinning roughly and wildly, before I was roughly and unceremoniously thrown to the ground.

A fresh set of boos echoed from the stands, as I landed roughly on my side, flak jacket absorbing most of the blow. Whistles pierced through the boos, but I hopped to my feet right away, rage surging through me. Loz towered over me, shaking his head as yellow flags flew in from all directions. I stepped forward, smashing my facemask against his.

"If you're going to hit me then fucking hit me!" I said aggressively. "Don't throw me to the ground like a pussy!"

"You think you're tough meat?" Loz responded, as the refs came in between us, breaking us up. "Hoo-hoo-hoo! You better watch yourself, punk!"

I shoved my jersey back into my pants as the referee announced the fifteen yard unnecessary roughness penalty, putting us five yards from the goal line.

"Black twenty four!" I yelled, as Modeoheim was caught off guard and still moving. "Set… Go!"

The ball was snapped back toward me, and I spun quickly, firing a ball to Sephiroth on the outside. He caught it easily, as Ricky leveled Kadaj with a block, and Sephiroth jogged lightly into the end zone, holding the ball out tauntingly.

The student section lost their minds, but the roar of the crowd was lost on my ears, as I leapt in the air, punching wildly as adrenaline flowed wildly through my veins.

Damn, I hadn't scored a touchdown in years. It felt…

Incredible.

I leapt in the air, shoulder bumping with Rude, as the P.A. announcer joyfully announced the touchdown pass. I jogged back to the sideline, high fiving Reno as he jogged out to kick the extra point.

"_Ladies and gentlemen, we may have hope for the future with young Cloud Strife!"_

* * *

><p>"<em>Time is winding down here in the 4<em>_th__ quarter. After that first drive, Modeoheim has adjusted well and basically all but shut down the Nibelheim offense."_

"_It was to be expected, Modeoheim is incredibly talented on defense, and the halftime adjustments they made have all but shut down young Cloud Strife."_

"_Strife has played with a lot of heart, and a lot of rage, but the two picks he's thrown this half aren't helping his cause much."_

"_The Nibelheim defense has been up to the challenge though, but if they can get the ball back here, they can set up their offense for a chance to win the game."_

I stood on the sidelines, fuming slightly. That last interception I threw was a killer, and it was completely my fault. I completely misread Yazoo's coverage, and threw the ball right at him. I glanced over at the scoreboard, the yellow lights burning the story of the game into my retinas.

Nibelheim… Seven. Modeoheim… Ten. Three minutes and some change left on the clock.

I grabbed my collar, adjusting my pads, as Modeoheim's QB dropped back to throw on a third and long. If they got this first down, the game, for all intents and purposes, was over.

"… _fires a pass over the middle… IT'S INTERCEPTED!"_

Coach fist pumped as Rufus jumped the route and snatched the ball away from Modeoheim's receiver. The stands went nuts as Rufus started running the other way, tripped up around the 50-yard line. I grabbed my helmet off of the ground, pulling it over my head.

"Strife!" Coach grabbed my arm as I buckled my chinstrap. "Don't over think it. Just go out there and throw the ball."

I was dumbstruck for a moment. Coach actually said something positive to me? That was unexpected. I nodded, as Coach read the play off of his play card, pushing me out onto the field. I jogged toward the huddle, turning around and looking into the stands.

Tifa stood in the front row, clapping and screaming.

I smiled, turning to the huddle, looking into the eyes of each of my teammates.

"Listen," I said firmly. "We're going to do this. Have faith in me."

Sephiroth turned away, jogging to his position on the far side of the field.

"We're with you, Cloud," Rude said, nodding. I returned the nod, leaning in close to the huddle.

"We're gonna go I-Heavy, 44 draw. Got that? I-Heavy, 44 draw. On two, on two. No huddle the rest of the way out. Ready?"

"Break!"

"_Heavy-I formation, Strife is under center. The ball is snapped, Strife drops back, looking to throw… no, it's a handoff! Richardson pounds forward, picking up about 8 yards on the play. And, not surprisingly, Nibelheim is going with the no huddle. Strife gets the sign from the sidelines, calling the play at the line."_

I stood, hands on my hips, blinking sweat out of my eyes. Kunsel was calling for a QB keeper, I walked to the line, squatting behind the center.

Fun.

"White twenty!" I called, slightly muffled by the piece of rubber between my teeth. "White twenty! Hike!"

I took the ball, dropping back like I was going to pass, standing for a beat, hopping on the balls of my feet. Loz came tearing through the line, which was my cue. Instantly, I tucked the ball into my chest, taking off running through the hole on the left side.

The line had cleared a sizable gap for me, which I tore through, sidestepping the one lineman that reached out for my feet.

"_Strife breaks free! Wow! That kid has some wheels!" _

I tore down the field, planting my back foot and swiveling my hips, turning on a dime to juke out Yazoo who had been running forward toward me. His hand grasped a handful of my jersey as he fell down, but my adrenaline was pumping, and I exploded forward, tearing free of his grip.

Legs churning, arms pumping, the roar of the crowd fueling me, I sprinted down the field.

My brain finally kicked in enough to register that I was crossing the goal line.

The roar was deafening, as I dropped the football and instantly threw my hands in the air.

"YEAAAAAH!" I yelled, as Rude and Ricky came flying in to celebrate with me, slapping me on the head and jumping around and pushing me. We jogged to the sidelines, where more of my teammates began assaulting my head. Reno kicked the extra point easily.

And just like that, Nibelheim was up, fourteen to ten.

And I was the hero.

I took my helmet off, and couldn't help but grin ear to ear.

There was about a minute and a half left, but Modeoheim's offense couldn't do anything but splutter and die on the field. Three plays later, I was proven right.

"_And the pass is… incomplete! Batted down! Nibelheim wins! Wow! That ending was pretty incredible!"_

"_After Zack Fair went down, it looked like Nibelheim would splutter and fall on its face, but Cloud Strife somehow makes a huge play with his feet and scores the winning touchdown."_

"_The young QB got lucky in that regard, but since he performed well as a second stringer against the number one defense in the state. Strife was 12 for 29 for 168 yards, one touchdown and two interceptions."_

"_What a call made by the Nibelheim Coaching staff, however, to bail Strife out of throwing another pass and keep the ball on the ground where he could really make a play…"_

I walked away from the field, heart still thumping from the excitement and adrenaline. I clutched my helmet by its facemask, sweat matted my spiky hair flat on my head and caused my eye black to streak down my face.

"Cloud!" Tifa called from the side of the tunnel the fans had made for us, shaking her little pom pom and beaming widely. "Cloud, that was incredible!"

I wrapped my arms around her, kissing her long and passionately. Her eyes opened in shock, before she tossed her arms around my neck and began kissing me back.

I chalked that one up to adrenaline.

* * *

><p>"Cloud! Cloud! Cloud!" people chanted as I threw another shot back, slamming the glass on the beer pong table in Aerith's barn. I wiped my arm over my mouth, sticking my tongue out and making a face.<p>

"Come on, Cloud," Reno laughed, throwing an arm around my shoulders, lit cigarette in hand. "You scored fourteen points, you get fourteen shots!"

I shook my head, breathing hot fire from the Blizzaga Vodka, staring at the final four shots on the table. I crossed my arms, rocking back and forward, as the alcohol began attacking my brain, and I felt extremely lightheaded.

I grabbed another shot glass, sipping the bitter alcohol down.

I instantly felt lava bubble up in my chest.

Uh oh.

I turned, vomiting all over the straw-covered ground, as people jeered me.

Ugh.

I stood up, passing an arm over my mouth.

Oh God.

I leaned over and vomited again, world spinning.

"Come on, it ain't like you're gonna be QBing anytime soon," Reno laughed, leaning over me, his face coming in and out of focus. "Did little Cloud have too much to drink?"

"Fuck… you…" I managed to get out, swatting at my chin. There was puke there. I think there's puke there.

"Go away, Reno," Aerith shoved the red head away, leaning down toward me. "Cloud, you okay?"

"Tifa…" I muttered, crawling on the ground. I couldn't stand. If I stood, my head would explode.

"I'll get her," Aerith disappeared.

"Come on, Cloud," a figure hauled me to my feet. "I'll take you home."

"Bleh."

My vision blurred, swimming in and out of focus, I looked up, seeing a shock of long, black hair.

"Zack, come on, stay and have a beer!"

"Can't," the man carrying me said, shaking his head. "Concussion, bro."

"Next time!"

"You know it!"

The man helped me out of the barn, into the cool night air, shoving me into the passenger side of his black Camaro.

"Cloud!"

"Don't worry about him, Tifa, I'll take him home."

A knock came at my window. I rolled my head up, eyes focusing on Tifa.

"I'll see you later!"

I nodded, head bobbing limply.

Zack sat down in his seat, buckled up, and started his car. He shoved my seatbelt into its holster, and then tore out, down the road.

"Jesus, Cloud," Zack looked at me. "You played well, but you shouldn't listen to Reno. Don't let it get to your head. It's just one game."

"Just one game," I dutifully repeated, slurring my words, as Zack turned onto the darkened stretch of highway. "Should you be driving?"

"Don't worry about me," Zack said, staring out the windshield intently. "I'm in better shape to drive than those fools. A little concussion ain't anything to worry about."

I stared out the window, watching the apple trees fly by at an incredible speed.

Oh God.

"Zack… I think I'm gonna…"

"Hold it!" Zack cried. "Don't puke yet, let me pull over-"

Too late.

I leaned my head down, puking all over Zack's floor.

"Fuck! Come on, Cloud!" Zack yelled, looking between me and the puke. He sighed, staring down at the puke. "Don't worry about it, I'll get you to clean it up tomorrow…"

A pair of bright headlights dominated the road, and I pointed stupidly.

"Zack," I managed to spurt out.

Time stood still for a second, as Zack looked up, noticing just now that he had drifted into the middle of the road.

And then…

I was jerked wildly, smashing my head against the window as Zack's front left tire smashed into the front right of the large truck, the smaller Camaro spinning wildly across the road.

Then the flips started.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

The windshield shattered, peppering the inside of the car with shrapnel.

Then, we came to rest.

Steam leaked from the twisted and warped hood, as fresh blood ran down my face, stinging my eye.

The world throbbed, nothing quite in focus, as I could see the owner of the truck running toward us, already on his cell phone.

My vision cleared, briefly. Just long enough to see Zack.

He was slumped over the steering wheel. Eyes closed as blood ran down his face and collected in a pool on the twisted dashboard.

The world went black.

* * *

><p>My eyes fluttered open slightly, the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor flooded my ears. I groaned, shaking my head softly.<p>

"Cloud…"

My vision swam, bright lights assaulting my mind.

"Tifa…?" I groaned, looking for the brown haired girl.

"Cloud, are you okay?" Tifa's blurred face came into focus, leaning in close to me, concern on her face. Dried tear streaks ran down her face.

"Wha- what happened?" I muttered, voice hoarse. I pulled the hose out of my nose, sniffling heavily.

"Do you… not remember?" Tifa's voice cracked, a sob catching in her throat.

"Remember what…?" I asked, looking down the room at Rufus, Reno and Rude. Rufus sat in the chair next to where Tifa was sitting, while Reno and Rude leaned against the wall.

Instantly, the images of the car crash flashed through my head.

"Zack…" I muttered, trying to push myself out of the hospital bed. Tifa softly pushed me down. "Where's Zack?"

I was greeted by blank stares and silence.

"… What's going on?" my head was swimming, I still hadn't caught on. Tifa sobbed, grabbing my bloodied and bruised hand. Rufus coughed, as Rude shook his head. Reno opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He closed it, exhaling long and deeply before trying again.

"You still don't get it, do ya' Cloud? … Za-" Reno's voice caught, and he sniffed, rubbing his eyes.

"… Zack's dead."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **This chapter is 100% fiction.


	7. Seven

**VII**

"What?"

The word felt heavy in my mouth, as if the word was made of rubber. My mind instantly went blank, all color sucking out of the room.

"Cloud… Zack's dead," Tifa repeated, fresh tears spilling down her face.

"This isn't funny," I said, trying to convince myself it was simply a cruel joke. Their faces betrayed no emotion. They were really good. "Come on, where is he?"

"Cloud," Rufus spoke up from the far wall. "He died on the way to the hospital, they couldn't revive him."

Come on, Zack. You can hop out of your hiding spot now.

"I think I'm gonna throw up…" I muttered, instantly feeling bile rush into my throat. Tifa took a step back, digging under my bed for a stainless steel bedpan. I took it, dry heaving into the portable toilet seat for a few moments.

One thought crossed my mind, and it finally allowed me to spew discolored bile into the pan.

"It's my fault…" I muttered, wiping a trembling hand over my mouth. "It's all my fault."

"Don't say that, Cloud," Rude spoke up.

I shook my head; feeling like the space between my ears was stuffed full with cotton. A dull, fuzzy feeling enveloped my head, and I tried to push myself out of bed. My arms gave out and I collapsed down, lying back against the flat and uncomfortable pillows.

A loud sniffle from Reno echoed through the small room.

My mind spun, not settling into a groove. People came in and out, poking and prodding me, shining flashlights into my eyes and murmuring about how the concussion I suffered wasn't serious.

"Go home, Tifa," I said, after laying silently for over an hour.

She shifted in the chair she was sitting in, getting to her feet and walking toward me. I stared at a spot on the ceiling, not sparing a glance in her direction. My breath was coming in heavily, in… and out.

"Seriously, go home."

"Cloud."

"Tifa. Please. I'm alright. Just… just go," I muttered, continuing to stare at the splotch on the ceiling. In… and out. Was that blood? I hope not.

She didn't move. I swallowed, my dry tongue feeling bloated and foreign in my mouth.

In… and out.

Tifa returned to her seat, watching me stare at the ceiling.

What was merely an hour felt like several, all the while Tifa and I sat quietly. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was the only noise.

I jumped as the door was opened, the Doctor and Nurse coming into the room, the latter had her arms full of my clothes, folded and stacked neatly.

"We didn't wash them," she said, apologetically, as the stack was handed over. Dried, crusty blood coated the collar of my shirt. "But I put a pair of scrubs in there you can wear out."

"Thanks," I muttered, as the Doctor pulled the various wires off of my body, turning off the heart monitor. The Nurse shooed Tifa out, allowing me to change in peace. The Doctor cleared his throat, grabbing a clipboard that was hanging off of the front of the bed I was trapped in.

I pulled my hospital gown off, quickly stepping into my jeans, belting them up.

"The concussion you received from the accident was rather minor," the Doctor said, scribbling something on the clipboard. "You should be cleared to play this weekend, seeing if you pass your tests on Monday."

Play?

This weekend?

I pulled the blue scrub shirt on, staring at the bloody t-shirt strangely.

I couldn't think. It was like my mind was in a fog.

"… Is that alright?"

"What?" I turned around, still holding my t-shirt tightly in my hands.

"I asked if it was alright for you to come in Monday afternoon to get your check up," the Doctor repeated slowly. "Like I said earlier, the concussion is mild, it could easily have been much more severe. You're lucky to be alive."

Lucky? Is that what you're calling it?

And I guess Zack was just unlucky then.

"Doctor," I started. "Is Zack… is he really…"

The Doctor shook his head softly, looking down at the floor.

"I'm sorry, son. He died on the way to the hospital. We tried to revive him but…" the Doctor cleared his throat. "With how serious his concussion was, he shouldn't have been driving at all."

I knew he was trying to make me feel better, but it only served to make me feel worse.

I pushed open the glass doors of the hospital, walking into the cold night air. It seemed as if I was moving in slow motion, floating forward. A large group of students and townspeople stood, bundled up against the cold, staring at the hospital. Most of them clutched candles or flashlights, huddling together and grieving. People were crying, sobbing, and the ones that weren't were staring at me strangely. As if I were some sort of alien.

I turned, seeing the pair of cops that busted up Reno's party flanking the door, faces neutral.

I continued floating onward, my mind not clicking and allowing my body to run on autopilot. The crowd parted without effort, allowing me through.

Mr. and Mrs. Fair stood next to their idling SUV, waiting for me.

Mr. Fair had tears streaming down his face, while Mrs. Fair sniffed and forced a smile. She came forward, wrapping her arms around me in what should have been a comforting hug.

I stood there, enveloped in her arms, not returning the hug.

"It's all my fault," I muttered into her shoulder.

* * *

><p>"<em>-it's unthinkable, unimaginable. You always hear about these tragedies but you never think that it will happen to you, in your hometown. To people that you care about."<em>

"_I agree with you, Bob. It's impossible to put into words, I- I don't know how I'm feeling right now. In case you're just joining us and were shut in this weekend, Nibelheim mourns the passing of Zack Fair, who died late last night in a head on collision on Highway 52." _

"_I don't know how the team, hell the entire town, is going to move on from this. The one bright spot in the entire event was that Cloud Strife, who was the passenger in the car, has only a few minor injuries."_

"_I expect that an announcement will be made today if the game this Friday will be cancelled but-"_

I shut off the clock radio, rolling over in bed and staring at the ceiling, my mind still not quite in the groove.

Silently, I pulled myself out of the twisted mess of sheets that was my bed, moving through my room, clothes strewn about, slowly. I grabbed the towel off the floor, where it landed last night when I slammed my door shut, and moved to the bathroom, rubbing sleep out of my eyes.

The worn, water stained knobs of his shower turned, squeaking with age, and hot water spilled out of the old showerhead, steaming up the small bathroom quickly. I dropped my shorts, stepping lethargically into the shower. I didn't mind the warm water that stung my exposed skin, standing in the heat passively. I let my mind wander, going through my shower routine with an empty mind.

The weekend had allowed the news to finally sink in, for the reality to finally take hold. Zack was dead.

Ten minutes later, it was over. I cranked the knobs closed, long blonde hair hanging limply over my eyes. I pulled the towel into the shower, drying off quickly. I walked through the room quickly, returning to my own.

I tossed the towel aside casually, letting it drape across the floor. I stood naked, shivering in the cold air of my room. Why? Why am I even getting ready for school? I get it. I have a responsibility to continue my education… to support my team, blah blah blah…

What about my own pain, dammit? Can't I grieve in peace?

Shuffling sounds from the kitchen leaked through the walls, and the shattering sound of glass splintered the peaceful silence that had slowly enveloped my room. I sighed, grabbing a fresh pair of boxers out of the worn and chipped dresser, pulling them on.

She was why I had to keep going. No time to grieve when I was the man of the house.

It was difficult getting to school, walking through the biting wind. Where did winter come from? It was literally just summer last week. Zack and I were…

I paused in the center of the sidewalk, breath suddenly hitching in my chest.

A car pulled up alongside me, catching my attention. The passenger door to the smooth, black sedan was tossed open.

"Get in," Rufus commanded softly. I obliged, lowering myself into the car and closing the door, sitting in the idling machine quietly.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Rufus muttered, rolling down the window and reaching into his lip, throwing his chewing tobacco out onto the street. He took off toward the school, driving rather calmly compared to his usual standards. Of course, after last night, everyone should be driving much more carefully.

A somber atmosphere hung above the school like a cloud, no one was laughing, smiling, the parking lot was filled with students trudging toward the school building, several girls were huddled together, consoling a younger girl who was sobbing uncontrollably.

"They're acting like they know him," Rufus grunted as we headed up the stairs, entering the old building. As we crossed the threshold, Coach Taylor was waiting for us, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. He looked disheveled, like he hadn't slept all weekend. Probably hadn't.

"Team meeting," Taylor muttered. "Head to the locker room. Y'all have already been excused from your homerooms."

Rufus shrugged, heading toward the basement where the locker room was. I followed behind him, staring down at the scuffed and dirty tiled floor. I was all too aware of the eyes of the students following me. I was excited to duck under the stairs, away from all of them.

The door was propped open, the majority of the team sitting silently in front of their lockers, dressed in their school clothes. Once again, every eye turned to me as I entered the room. I slowly headed toward my locker, setting my backpack aside and slumping down on the bench beside my locker. I glanced to my right, seeing the black number one jersey hanging limply inside Zack's locker.

Like he left it.

Coach cleared his throat, standing at the front of the assembled teenagers in front of him. He scratched the stubble jutting out of his face.

"We lost a great teammate, friend… and human being this weekend," Coach said solemnly. "I've given you a few days to let the news sink in, to grieve in your own private ways. I myself have been… meditating on the situation. What we are to do."

Coach paused, inhaling deeply.

"Tomorrow, I have to address the media… and tell them that we will be playing on Friday."

A few players shuffled uncomfortably, looking around. Coach clapped his hands together.

"Look, I know this is asking a lot from most of you," Coach paused.

A pair of feet shuffled, and every eye in the room shifted to Sephiroth, who stood up. His wintery eyes were emotionless, as the star receiver stood silently in the locker room. Without a word, he strode to the exit, pushing it open, and disappeared into the parking lot. The door slammed shut behind him.

"Like I said," Coach continued, clearing his throat. "This must be difficult for you all. But… I don't think that Zack would want us to give up on the season… the season he gave everything he had for, to just quit. Give it up."

I stared down at the ground. That's true. Zack would be kicking us all in the ass and screaming at us to get up, pick the pieces up and keep fighting. That's just the kind of guy that he was.

… Was.

"I want all of you to head to class right now, and get mentally prepared for practice today. We're going to hit it hard, like we usually do. Y'all have my number. Feel free to text or call me, or just stop by. My door is going to be open all week."

Players nodded, getting to their feet, throwing backpacks over their shoulders and heading out of the locker room.

"Cloud," Coach stopped me as I tried to slink past him. "A word?"

I exhaled loudly through my nose, turning around. Coach crossed his arms, mimicking my nose sigh.

"How are you feeling?"

Why do I feel like everyone is asking me that question?

"… Fine."

"How's your head?"

"Still attached," I grunted. "Why?"

"The Doctor told me that you have a check up today," I totally forgot about that. Coach rubbed his eyes. "Assuming you pass, you're getting the ball on Friday."

What.

"What?" I blinked. I shook my head. "No, Zack's the starter."

As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized how stupid they sounded.

"Not anymore," Coach said. "You're now the starting quarterback."

… Shit.

* * *

><p>I passed my concussion test with flying colors. No permanent damage, and I was cleared to play on Friday.<p>

Which meant I would be starting.

I avoided everyone, escaping the strange looks and grieving people.

I tried my hardest to avoid Tifa. I doubly went out of my usual ways of avoiding people to avoid her. Didn't respond to her texts, ignored her phone calls. Cut off all communication from her.

Not sure why.

A large tribute to Zack was erected in the entryway of the school. The final place I hoped I could escape the pain of his death by remaining in the shadows was cruelly ripped away from me. A large picture of him was posted on a large easel bulletin board, and friends and grievers left messages scrawled on cards or notebook paper, addressed to Zack.

I paused on my walk to the locker room, staring at the messages. Read a few of them. Reno's was especially heartfelt and smelled like whiskey and cigarettes.

So many messages.

Zack, you were a great person. Zack you would have lead us to greatness. Zack was the greatest man to ever walk these halls.

Were. Would. Was.

A man, my best friend, who was alive three days ago… just wasn't anymore. Relegated to the past tense.

I moved on, walking away from the heartfelt and tearstained messages, heading to the locker room. A large group of reporters blocked the hall, standing all around Coach for his first press exposure since the weekend.

"Cloud Strife will be starting on Friday," boomed loud and clear down the hallway. I froze, holding the door halfway open. I swallowed, heart rate picking up, before passing through the open door and letting it slam shut behind me.

Zack's locker was cleaned out. All of his personal belongings were boxed up and given to his parents. His pads and helmet were returned to the equipment closet. Only his jersey hung, still and silent.

I reached out, grabbing the mesh and rubbing between my index and thumb.

"Cloud."

I snapped out of my daze, turning and staring at Rude, holding his helmet loosely in his hand.

"Coach told me to tell you the media is going to hop all over you," the running back said. "Just keep your mouth shut and go with the clichés."

"Uh," I blinked, feeling cold seep into my veins. "Cl-clichés?"

These people should know by now. I am a… private person, to put it mildly.

And now you're asking me to talk to the media?

Shit.

Rude left, allowing me to reach into my locker, hand trembling slightly.

I undressed, pulling my compression shorts on over my body, followed quickly by a pair of mesh athletic shorts. An undershirt, followed quickly by my pads. I sat down on the bench in front of my locker, lacing up my cleats. Another player opened the door to the hallway, revealing a group of reporters huddled around the door like it was the only source of heat in the entire Arctic.

The door swung shut, and I turned back to tying my shoes. I would have to deal with them eventually, but the longer I could put it off, the better. I grabbed my helmet, sighing, and headed out the back door toward the field.

Instantly, a pack of reporters swarmed down on me like a flock of locusts, swarming all over me, pictures flashing and microphones shoved in my face. Questions were popping off from every angle, shouted out at me in a variety of different voices.

"Uhh," I managed to get out, panic seizing my chest. "I have to go warm up."

A pause, before more questions exploded out of the mouths of the hyenas, not allowing me to pass. I looked past them, trying to find a way out of the throng…

… and saw Tifa standing halfway toward the field.

I pushed my way through the reporters, who followed me the whole way. I glanced at Tifa, who had an unreadable expression on her face, before continuing to the field. I was effectively shielded by the variety of reporters around me. A strong hand wrapped around my forearm, hauling me out of the pile and dragging me toward the field.

I looked up, surprised, seeing Coach Taylor grabbing me and pulling me along.

"Thanks," I told him, shakily. Coach Taylor nodded, basically shoving me out onto the field. The reporters followed me at a distance, floating around the field like vultures.

They had to wait until after practice to talk to any of the players. They called for Rude, Coach and myself, and unfortunately, at the behest of the athletic director, we were forced to stay around to talk to the jackals.

I stood with Coach, a little away from Rude, who was currently being interviewed, the neutral expression that was a constant on his face still plastered on there. He calmly answered the questions, never breaking eye contact.

"Do you believe the offense will focus more on you this coming weekend?"

"I believe that Coach will come out with a scheme that will work well for us," Rude said, with a brief head nod. "If it means an increase of my workload, I'm ready for that. If it means we rely on Cloud's arm, then I'm ready for that as well."

It occurred to me that this was the most I've ever heard Rude talk in the 10 years of knowing him.

I blinked, as Rude nodded and walked off, and all of the journalists turned their hyena-like heads toward me.

Crap.

I shuffled forward, walking into the crowd of reporters, holding my helmet loosely in my hand. I swallowed, feeling like a large egg had somehow lodged itself in my throat.

"Cloud," one of the reporters started it off. "The loss of Zack Fair is going to weigh heavily on you, most of all, due to your close relationship. Could you put into words how it feels to take over his position?"

Take over his position?

"I'm not really taking over," I heard myself say. "I mean… I am taking over, but I'm not taking over. Zack Fair is one person, and Cloud Strife is a completely different person."

I saw Coach rub his eyes in frustration.

"Could you… elaborate on that a little bit?"

"Sure, uh," I scratched the back of my head with my free hand. "Zack Fair is Zack Fair. What you see there is what you get. He's like… the Beatles, you know. And a lot of people like the Beatles, which is cool, but Cloud Strife is a completely different person. Cloud Strife isn't the Beatles."

What the hell am I talking about?

"So, who is Cloud Strife, then?"

"… Exactly," I said, finding my way out of this loop and taking it. I laughed nervously. "Who is Cloud Strife?"

The reporter cocked an eyebrow. Fuck you, buddy.

"You're inheriting the offense from the best quarterback, and arguably the best player, in the nation, what changes do you foresee the offense making from… 'the Beatles' to you?"

"I don't really understand the question," I admitted, looking around and trying to find the reporter who asked that question.

"In your last game appearance you managed... 12 completions on 29 attempts, with one touchdown and two interceptions. Compared to Fair's average of three touchdowns and zero-point-five interceptions. Do you see any changes being made to the playbook?"

"Well, if you look, those stats were against the number one defense in the state," I defended. "And no, I don't believe there will be too many changes. But, uh whatever there is…"

What did Rude say?

"I believe that Coach will come out with a scheme that will work well for us," I echoed the words the running back said earlier. "If it means an increase of my workload, I'm ready for that. If it means we rely on Cl- err, Rude's legs, then I'm ready for that as well."

A few of the reporters glanced at each other, shrugging, as I nodded. This is going good.

"According to school officials, Safer Sephiroth has dropped out of school, are you going to find a new favorite target then?"

"What?" I blinked. "Sephiroth dropped out?"

"According to school officials."

"We have no comment on that situation," Coach spoke up, walking toward me and standing beside me. "I believe that's enough questions for Cloud today."

I nodded my thanks to Coach, heading away from the field and back toward the locker room.

* * *

><p>I shut my locker, sliding my textbook for my first class on Thursday into my bag.<p>

"Hi Cloud."

I turned, noticing a blonde cheerleader, primped up to the finest, smiling at me and clutching a stack of books to her chest. I don't think I ever met her, or knew her name.

"Uh, hi," I said, eyes shifting, looking for Reno laughing and videotaping me like he did last year.

"I'm yours."

… What.

"Excuse me?"

"Not like that, silly," she said, laughing and slapping me lightly on the shoulder. "I mean, you're starting now. I'm your cheerleader."

"Oh."

What does this mean? What is going on?

"Meaning," she said, sliding her arm through mine and walking down the hall with me. "I can do anything that you want me to. Need your homework done? I got it. Need beer bought? Talk to me."

"I can get my own beer," I muttered, feeling heat rise into my face.

"What about sweets?" she either didn't hear or chose to ignore me. "Before the game? Do you like anything in particular?"

"Uh," I looked away, scratching the back of my head nervously. "I like whatever…"

"I make a mean plate of turtle brownies," she smiled at me. "With gooey caramel and lots of nuts."

"Yeah, that sounds good."

She smiled at me, gave me a quick hug and headed off in the opposite direction, leaving me standing awkwardly in the center of the hallway. What just happened? That girl had literally never talked to me before today.

"Hi, Cloud," a pair of girls beamed at me, walking past me and jarring me out of my thoughts. I lifted my hand in a little half wave, still a little confused. Smiling in spite of myself, I headed off toward my class.

* * *

><p>Practice was intense this week. Installing basically an entirely new, dumbed down playbook for this weekend, was a lot of work. Most people had put the death of Zack out of their minds, and just focused on working toward the game tomorrow.<p>

"Tifa."

I left the locker room, having showered and changed after practice, and found her standing outside, waiting for me.

"Cloud."

I stood, silent, duffel bag over my shoulder. Tifa stared down at the ground.

Awkward.

"Why are you avoiding me?" she asked softly.

"I'm not."

Bullshit, Cloud.

"Look," she sighed. "I know that you need some space, but I'm here for you, Cloud, I want you to know that. Don't shut out everything in your life just because you're in pain."

"You don't understand."

The words just leaked out of my mouth, without any forethought. Tifa looked up at me, surprised.

"Alright, that's fair, but Cloud…" I didn't let her finish.

"Stop pretending like everything is alright, Tifa, because it's not!" I yelled. "Zack's dead, and it's my fucking fault! Why is everyone acting like everything is fine? He's gone! Forever!"

Tifa stood there, taking it. Which for some reason made me even angrier.

"I don't need your support," I muttered, resisting the urge to put my fist through the nearest wall.

The one person who has ever given a damn about me, the only person who has ever cared for me, who jeopardized his potential scholarship to get me some playing time, was dead. And it was my fault.

I didn't need anyone.

"That's fine," Tifa said, voice trembling slightly. "I understand you're in pain, Cloud, and that you need some time. I care about you, Cloud. But if you can't open up for me, I can't be there for you."

"Then don't be."

We stared each other down, before Tifa nodded and walked off. I stared after her, watched her disappear around the corner.

And then I felt it.

The anger that had gripped me for the longest time faded, and the crushing despair took hold.

My best friend was dead.

And it was all my fault.

All of the machismo, all of the walls I put up to hide what I was really feeling this past week, collapsed around me in a heap.

I sank to the ground, one hand on the wall for support, and I did something I hadn't done in 12 years.

I cried.

I bawled, crying unabashedly. Hot tears of shame and frustration and pain and sorrow and so many other words I couldn't even think of streamed down my face as I sobbed, biting down on my knuckle to stifle the sobs.

I don't know how long I stayed there, on the floor of the basement of my high school, crying like a schoolgirl. Eventually, I stood up, sniffling, wiping the tears away and hiccupping. I gathered my duffel bag, slinging it back over my shoulder and walking out of the school.

* * *

><p>The locker room was subdued tonight, even more so than before we played Modeoheim. The death of Zack coupled with Sephiroth dropping out of school created a very negative air before the game. A new addition was made to each of our jerseys; a small number one patch was sewn on near our right collarbones. Zack's jersey was held by Rude, who would carry it out to the center of the field with the rest of the captains.<p>

I was fully dressed, tucking a small, white hand towel into the belt of the hand warmer around my waist. I reached back into my locker, grabbing my small jar of eye black and unscrewing the cap.

The jar was dry. Empty.

Like me.

I sighed, grabbing my helmet and playbook, flipping through several pages and cramming as many last minute notes as I could.

I had my nose in the scouting report all morning at school, and now it was finally time to put all of this practice to the test.

"There's not much to say," Coach said, giving us all his usual pre-game pep talk. "We should have plenty of motivation to go out there this week. Remember what we're playing for, who we're playing for. That number one on your chests is what we're playing for. Not for fame, not for fortune; but for the memory of our lost friend. Let's do this."

The team nodded, silently vacating the locker room and walking out to the field slowly. No one was pumping each other up, no one was laughing. Rude and Rufus each held a sleeve of Zack's jersey, holding it between them, walking in the front of the pack.

"Please remove your hats and observe a moment of silence for Zack Fair," the booming, static-filled voice of the P.A. announcer echoed over the field as we marched out toward our sideline.

The stadium was silent, as we lined up out of bounds, watching Rufus and Rude walk out into the center of the field, exchange hugs and handshakes with the captains of North Corel. I bobbed my head, hopping lightly on the balls of my feet, getting amped for the game.

* * *

><p>"<em>Things are already getting out of hand here in the second quarter."<em>

"_Cloud Strife has thrown three interceptions and doesn't look like he's clicking with the offense at all. He seems to be on a completely different page than the rest of the players."_

"_The loss of Safer Sephiroth as his safety blanket isn't helping, but you can't blame the kid. He's showing a lot of heart coming out here and playing at all after being part of the accident that resulted in the untimely death of Zack Fair."_

"_Heck, Bob-o, he was in the same car."_

The stands were quiet, disheartened by the lack of effort we've been putting forth thus far.

"We're going shotgun, trips left, slants. Shotgun trips left, slants. On two. Ready?" I leaned forward in the huddle, looking down at the ground and mumbling slightly.

"Break," the team called half-assed, marching to the line. I stood a few yards behind the center, bringing my foot up and planting it back onto the turf.

"Ready! Set, hut! Hut!" I called, the ball snapped back toward me in a perfect spiral. I grabbed the ball, turning and looking at the middle of the field, firing a ball…

Right into the waiting hands of the linebacker who was sitting on the route.

He was immediately brought down by Ricky, who was actually the receiver I was trying to throw the ball to. I turned toward our sideline feeling terrible, heat rising into my face. I stared down at the ground, a lump growing in my throat, unbuckling my chinstrap as I trudged to the sideline.

Rude and Ricky tried to cheer me up, slapping me on the helmet and muttering words of encouragement. Reno and Rufus did the same thing on the sideline, but I brushed past them, taking my helmet off.

"Kunsel, get loose," Coach told the sophomore, who nodded and grabbed his helmet, going back behind the bench with Ricky to start throwing the football. Coach glanced at me, an apologetic look on his face. "Sorry, Strife. Just wasn't your night."

I didn't answer, marching toward an empty spot of the steel bench and standing in front of it, the lump in my throat growing.

I grabbed my helmet by the facemask, swinging it with all of my might onto the steel bench. Once. Twice. Thrice. Players and coaches went out of their way to avoid me.

The plastic helmet broke apart, and I flung the useless protector aside, slumping down on the bench and grabbing a towel hanging over the back. I put it on over my head, leaning forward and hiding from the world, wallowing in my own guilt.

We were going to lose the game, and with a sick, twisted guilt, one single thought ran through my head, and it only caused the lump to grow even bigger.

It was all my fault.

* * *

><p><strong>AN** **(12/4/11)**: Hello. It has been a while. I promise not to leave you all hanging again, but it's been a crazy month of work and life and stuff. Enjoy the chapter and no, it won't be another month before it is updated again. Check my author page for a sporadically updated blog about the progress of the story!


	8. Eight

**VIII**

I stepped out onto my deck on Monday morning, breath clouding in the cool winter air. The stairs creaked under my weight, allowing me access to my lawn. The individual blades of grass were covered in frost, glistening in the cool sunlight.

Then I noticed my sign was knocked over.

I lifted it, plunging it back into the frozen dirt.

What previously read #4 Cloud Strife, quarterback, was defaced with large, black spray paint; a single word prominently displayed in the center.

Choke.

I stared at the letters, burning them into my mind, feeling hot tears of shame sting my eyes, a huge lump filling my entire throat. I sniffled, wiping my eyes, heading back inside.

Fuck school today.

I shut the front door, passing through the living room and directly to my room. I shut the door silently, dropping my backpack and leaning against the door closing my eyes and exhaling.

Choke.

My eyes snapped open, and I marched across my room, grabbing a football poster in both hands and tearing it off of my wall. I bunched it up, tossing it aside and moving over to the newspaper article that Tifa had been so enamored with. I grabbed it, pulling it off the wall and ripping it in half vertically, and then again. Shredding it into confetti and tossing it on the ground.

I sat down heavily on my bed, wiping away fresh streams of tears that had rolled down my face. I grabbed my phone, flipping it open and searching for a number within my contacts. I sniffled, wiping my nose.

"Reno? I need help."

* * *

><p>Reno and I sat on his ratty futon, feet up on an old coffee table, in between all of the beer cans and empty alcohol bottles. Reno finished loading the bowl, passing his bong toward me, along with a lighter. I sparked the corner of the bowl, inhaling the marijuana slowly. I pulled the bowl out, sucking hard to inhale all of the smoke and clearing the pipe, handing it to Reno.<p>

I released the cloud of smoke, smiling at the outcome of the paternal test on Don Corneo.

"I'm lucky you're such a bad student," I said, looking at Reno as he sparked the bong, inhaling deeply.

"F'ing a," Reno muttered, smoke billowing out of his mouth. He grabbed the remote, pumping the volume up on the TV, which was probably worth more than his entire house. I sat silently, as the bong was passed back to me, hitting it again.

"I needed this," I admitted with a small shrug.

"Hell, man, how do you think I've been getting through the days?" Reno grunted, gesturing at the table in front of him. "This shit was all from Tuesday."

"You haven't cleaned your house since Tuesday?"

"I haven't cleaned my house since I moved in."

I choked on the smoke, laughing loudly as Reno cracked up as well, gesturing toward me.

"It's gonna get stale!" Reno managed to get out, as I laughed at what could have possibly been the funniest thing I have ever heard. "Gimme gimme gimme!"

Reno took the bong, clearing it. His doorbell rang, causing us both to stare at each other.

"You invite anyone over?" Reno asked me.

"I didn't know your doorbell worked," I laughed. Reno chuckled, getting up and opening the door, motioning for me to hide the bong. He pulled the door open as I tucked it away between the futon and the wall. Reno went from laughing to stoic in a flash, clearing his throat.

I leaned forward, trying to see who was standing in the entryway, but I didn't have to much longer. Reno stepped aside, allowing access to whoever had knocked on the door.

Oh shit it's the cops.

My heart rate picked up as someone walked into the house.

Aerith.

I hadn't seen her in weeks, since the night Zack died. She looked like hell, like she hadn't slept since then. I don't know how I had.

"Hey," Reno muttered, scratching his chin.

"I- I didn't know where to go," Aerith said, her voice hoarse.

"Come in," Reno swept his hand, closing his door and heading to the kitchen.

Aerith walked in, sweats tucked into Ugg boots and a zip up sweater, her hair disheveled, but the pink ribbon still in it. She spotted me and froze.

"Hey," I muttered, looking aside.

I expected a cold hand to slap me across the face if anything, so I braced myself, staring at Reno's stained carpet, waiting for Aerith to strike me.

But it never came.

The old futon creaked as Aerith lowered herself onto it.

Here it comes.

Her arms wrapped around me, her head falling onto my shoulder. She sobbed a few times, causing me to glance at her in surprise.

"Cloud…"

"I'm sorry, Aerith," I muttered, tentatively wrapping an arm around her. "I'm so sorry."

"Here," Reno returned, unlit cigarette in his mouth, offering the fifth of whiskey in his hand toward us. "It numbs the pain. For a little while."

Aerith took it, a single sob echoing from her throat.

"It still doesn't seem real," Aerith whispered, taking a swig of whiskey. "It doesn't make sense. He was just alive. He was just talking to me… just kissing me. And now he's gone."

Reno retreated to his armchair, exhaling and holding his head. He lit his cigarette, reclining in his chair and blowing smoke into the air.

We sat in silence. Aerith and I passed the fifth and bong between us, alternating between smoking and drinking.

"Cloud," Reno finally spoke up, leaning forward. "I'm not in the mindset to go to practice today."

I didn't respond.

* * *

><p>"<em>Papers are saying that Strife didn't show up to a single day of practice this week, and he hasn't shown anything in the – in the three games he's played. It makes sense to start Kunsel, give the kid a shot. Strife isn't Zack Fair."<em>

"_Thank you caller. Yeah, Strife has broken the rules of the team, which makes sense why he isn't starting, but come on; can you really blame him for his performance during the last game? One week after the death of Zack Fair."_

"_Do you think young John Kunsel is the answer at quarterback? Is he better than Cloud Strife?"_

"_I do believe that he should get his chance, but at this point, no, I don't think Kunsel gives you more of a chance to win than Strife."_

I skipped every day of school, and by default, practice that week, so while I should have been suspended; I was merely relegated to backup. Coach didn't have depth at quarterback with Zack being… you know, dead.

I stood on the sideline, wearing full gear, a brand new helmet on the ground by my feet, relaying the signs out to Kunsel.

Poor kid, he had no idea what he was doing, as I watched him hand the ball off to Rude for the umpteenth time. Unluckily for him, the other team was stacking the box, and Rude was dropped quickly. The other team was daring Kunsel to throw.

The sophomore couldn't do it though. He had already thrown a pick-six, putting us down in a hole we couldn't quite recover from.

Coach's jaw was tighter than I'd ever seen it. He exhaled loudly.

"Strife."

"Coach?"

"I don't know what's going on inside that head of yours," Coach muttered, handing his headset off to Coach Taylor and rubbing his hands through his hair. "But do me a favor and get your shit together soon. I need you."

Sorry, Coach. I don't know…

… I don't know if I can do that.

* * *

><p>Nibelheim had lost two games in a row for the first time in God knows how many years, and unrest had settled amongst the small town. Phone calls exploded into the radio station, and the talk show hosts didn't quite know how to deal with the extra attention, most of it negative.<p>

Football players stopped getting away with things, too. A couple of junior players were arrested for having alcohol in the trunk of their car after they got pulled over for speeding.

I moved through the halls between classes, noticing everyone avoiding me. No one even made eye contact, going out of their way to become super interested in their cell phones or the ceiling tiles.

"Hey," I said, nodding my head at the cheerleader who supported me. She made a disgusted sound, turning on her heel and heading away from me.

Well. At least everything was back to normal.

So why did it hurt so much?

I stood alone in a group of people.

"You've tasted success," a cool voice came from behind me, causing me to jump. "Now, you crave more of it."

"What are you doing here?" I asked Sephiroth, who was throwing the contents of his locker into his backpack. I felt a flash of anger surge through me. "I thought you quit."

Sephiroth made a non-committal sound.

"You fucking coward," I spat, unbidden. That had been happening quite a bit with me after Zack's death.

Sephiroth spun toward me, a righteous fire burning in his cold eyes. His backpack dropped to the ground. The last classroom door closed, leaving me alone with the 6'3" 225 pound bundle of fury that was Safer Sephiroth.

"Don't you ever," he whispered dangerously, jabbing me in the chest with a finger. "Fucking insult me like that. You don't understand anything about me."

He continued prodding me, and I slapped his hand away.

"Fuck off!"

He shoved me against the lockers.

Oh, hell no.

I snapped, swinging at Sephiroth.

Bad move, Cloud.

Sephiroth ducked, spear tackling me against the wall of lockers, popping a few open with the force. I grunted, as Sephiroth threw a right hook. Stars exploded in front of my eyes as his fist met my temple.

I slumped against the locker, ears ringing, head swimming. I instinctively brought my hands up to defend myself, and was rewarded with a strong punch to the stomach. I collapsed in a coughing heap and Sephiroth stepped over me, long silver hair swaying behind him.

"Sephiroth…" I muttered, looking up at his retreating back. The larger man grabbed his backpack off of the ground. "Sephiroth!"

He paid me no mind, continuing to move toward the exit.

"See you later… Cloud," he said coolly, waving slightly.

I got to my feet, limping toward the exit of the school. I passed a classroom, window set in the door, students staring at me as I passed. I threw the doors open at the end of the hall, bright light assaulting my vision.

"SEPHIROTH!" I roared. Sephiroth threw his backpack into the bed of his truck, spinning toward me. A small smirk on his face.

"Remember, Cloud," he said, opening the door of his truck. "You tasted success. You had some time in the limelight. You want more. Enjoy your time. Because next year… it's going to be mine."

He started the smooth silver truck, backing up and pulling out of the parking lot.

I stared after him, rubbing my aching temple.

Was he right? Was that the emptiness that had taken hold of me since I took that first snap in the game against Kalm? Was it fame?

My phone rang loudly in my pocket, and I fished for it quickly. I answered it, heading down the steps toward the parking lot.

"Where are you?"

"Tifa?"

"We're presenting right now, Cloud, so get your head out of your ass and get over here!"

She hung up. I sighed, replacing it in my pocket. I figured out this weekend that we were done, and it wasn't on good terms either. Relations between us were tense, to say the least, and the project we were working on suffered some quality. We didn't talk much, just basic things. What do you think of this idea? Nice job. You should say this instead.

Honestly, I don't think she knew how to deal with me.

Who would?

I opened the door to the classroom, catching Tifa's eye as she stood at the front of the class, our slide show presentation projected on the whiteboard at her back. I blinked, dropping my backpack just inside the door, and stood on the opposite side of the projection from her, facing the class.

"Now that you've arrived, Mr. Strife," Mrs. Franklin said icily. "You and Miss Lockheart may begin your presentation."

I shrugged slightly, letting Tifa take over and start talking.

* * *

><p>I cleaned my plate in the sink, wiping it down with a sponge, before setting it in a dish rack, turning and grabbing Mom's plate and glass off of the table as well. She held up a finger, popping her pills in her mouth and taking a huge drink of water. She handed me the glass, swallowing and taking a large breath. I took it, rinsing it in the sink as well.<p>

"You okay, Mom?"

"Fine, Cloud. I think I'm going to watch a bit of the television now."

"Alright. I'll be in my room if you need anything."

I turned, drying my hands on my jeans, heading toward my room.

"When is Zack coming over again? I miss that boy," Mom's voice came from the living room. I paused; hand on the doorframe to my room.

Do I tell her?

I decided against it, closing the door to my room and sitting heavily in my desk chair with a sigh. I sat silently for a moment, playing with a balled up gum wrapper.

A tap at a window broke my concentration, as I turned. Another small tap got me out of my chair, striding across the room. Aerith gave me a small smile through the glass.

What was she doing here?

She pantomimed opening the window. I blinked, reaching forward and unbolting the window. I pushed it open.

"Hey," she said softly, breath clouding slightly.

"Aerith," I responded, a little uncomfortably.

"Can I… come in?" she asked softly, looking up at me. I could see the sparkle of tears brimming in her eyes. Without a word, I took a step back, sweeping my arm forward. She grabbed the inside of the window, hauling herself through. I closed the pane of glass behind her, as she took off her scarf and large jacket.

"Umm…" my eyes shifted to the clothes on the floor, to the empty beer cans on my desk. "Wh-what's up?"

Fresh tears ran down her face, as she turned to me.

"Hey, hey," I took a step forward, tentatively putting an arm on her shoulder. "Aerith, it's going to be okay."

"What am I supposed to do, Cloud?" she sobbed softly. "We had our whole life planned. Now… I have no idea what I'm going to do. I didn't even apply to any schools! Zack was going to take care of me… I don't want to be stuck here. Not in this backwater hick ass town. Not selling flowers. What am I supposed to do now?"

She was feeling the exact thing I was. And here she was, sneaking into my room, expecting me to comfort her.

The guy who killed her boyfriend.

"Aerith," I whispered, grabbing her shoulders. She lifted her head, staring into my eyes. My mouth was suddenly dry. "Look, it's hard. I know. There are some days that I don't even want to get out of bed in the morning. But, listen. I'm here for you. We have to stick together. I'm not going to let you fall apart."

She sniffed, wrapping her arms around me and pulling me in close for a hug. I felt a lump in my throat, burying my face into the top of her head, breathing in her scent. The smell of her shampoo and perfume.

I honestly don't know how what happened next started.

Aerith lifted her head, burying it into my shoulder, her heart breath on my neck. I turned toward her, heart thumping madly.

She leaned forward, kissing me softly.

I pulled away, mind reeling.

"Aerith," I whispered breathlessly, as she wrapped her arms around my neck, rubbing her tear streaked face on my cheek. "What are you doing?"

"I don't know," she whispered huskily, kissing me again.

Part of me didn't want to do this. Part of me didn't want to be kissing my deceased best friend's girlfriend. Part of me didn't want her tongue dancing in my mouth.

But part of me needed this. More than anything. And it was that part that won out.

I wrapped my arms around her waist, as she tore at my clothes, pulling my t-shirt over my head, hands running down my abs to my belt.

She broke off the kiss, breathing heavily, taking my hands and putting them on her chest, attacking my neck with reckless abandon as she undid my belt, fishing in my pants.

"Do you have a condom?" she whispered heatedly.

Rational Cloud said fuck no. I definitely don't have a box Zack gave me when I told him Tifa and I were dating.

…

Rational Cloud was long gone.

I nodded dumbly, as she shoved me onto my bed, unzipping her jeans and taking her shirt off, straddling me, her thong leaving nothing to the imagination. She began grinding on top of me as I reached with trembling hands into my nightstand for a condom.

"Aerith, wait," I stopped her, holding the small square of a packaged prophylactic. My breath was coming in short gasps. Rational Cloud made a come back. "Stop. We can't do this."

"Cloud," she whispered, reaching behind her and unhooking her bra, tossing it aside. "I need this."

My breath was sucked out of my body as I stared at her bare chest. She took the condom from me, ripping it open.

"I need someone to love me," she whispered so low it was almost inaudible, tossing her thong aside.

* * *

><p>"Aerith."<p>

"Hmm?" she lifted her head from my chest, sex hair in full effect.

"What did we just do?" I asked, Rational Cloud coming back with a vengeance. A sickening feeling gripped my stomach. "Oh God, I just slept with my best friend's girlfriend. I just fucked my dead best friend's girlfriend."

She was silent, putting her head back on my chest.

"I'm sorry," she whispered after an extended period of silence, tracing her fingers along my abs. "I… I'm very vulnerable, Cloud. You've always been there for me. I'm… I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

"It's… okay," I relented. "I guess I needed it too."

"We're two of the same," she whispered. "I'm a mess since Zack died. You're more closed off than you usually are…"

"… Maybe," I muttered, still a little uncomfortable with the situation.

"It's his funeral tomorrow."

"I know."

"You weren't planning on going were you?"

"… No."

Aerith shifted, propping up on her elbow and looking at me.

"I will," I told her, staring into her eyes. The deep green irises seemed to peer into my soul, to be able to tell if I was lying.

I wasn't.

"Honest," I shrugged.

* * *

><p>Damn near the entire town showed up, crowded into the small graveyard. Aerith and her mom were front and center, sitting with the Fairs. Mr. Fair and Aerith were crying, bunches of tissues clumped around them.<p>

I hung near the back, loosening my tie that was uncomfortably tight. Reno, Rude and Rufus sat with me, staring at the ground, as our local Priest stood above Zack's dark coffin, going through the last rites of the dead.

Zack's jersey was draped over the top of the casket, the vibrant red number one a stark contrast to the somber and dark atmosphere that surrounded us.

"And as we raise your follower up to you, Lord, we are all reminded of our own morality. Zachary Fair was a loyal servant of you, Lord, bringing pleasure and happiness to the numerous followers of Nibelheim, as well as countless others around the globe," the Priest said, voice carrying on the winter air, as Zack's coffin began lowering into the ground. "He will never be forgotten. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. As we began, we are again. Amen."

"Amen," the congregation said softly.

* * *

><p>Zachary Richard Fair. Date of birth; June 11th, 1988. Date of death; November 2nd, 2006.<p>

Still didn't quite sink in.

I stood in front of Zack's tombstone, footprints in the fresh Earth that covered his coffin, a 40 ounce bottle of Meteor Light in my hand. I took a large drink, staring at the carved stone, silent tears pouring down my face.

A football sat on the ground next to the grave, as did a six pack of Meteor Light.

"Zack," I finally spoke up, my voice hoarse and raspy. "I know you can hear me, wherever you are. Probably shotgunning beers and throwing the football around with Jesus and Lincoln right now."

I grinned in spite of myself, wiping the tears away.

"You asked me a few weeks ago if I actually liked playing football. If it was something I really wanted to do. Since you've died, I've been thinking about it. Long and hard."

I took another drink of my forty, passing the back of my hand over my mouth.

"I didn't. I did it because of you. Because it would help me fit in. Because… I thought if I didn't, you wouldn't want to be friends with me."

I felt fresh tears spill out of my eyes, taking another drink.

"But, now I know. I know. I want to play. I need to play," I admitted to the stone. "I need that fame again, the competition, the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat."

"I need to WIN!" I yelled, finishing my forty and throwing it into the graveyard. "I will win, Zack. Because it's what you would have wanted. Because you never would let something small like death get in the way of you and a championship. So… I'm going to win! For you!"

I dug in my pockets, finding what I was looking for. The ring. The one that Zack bought for Aerith.

"I kind of rummaged around your room looking for this," I apologized. "I figured you'd probably want it back. And don't worry about Aerith. I'll take care of her."

I felt a disgusting feeling in the back of my mouth when I uttered those words, as I bent over, digging a small hole in the dirt. I stared at the ring, at the too-small diamond on the top of it.

And then I dropped it.

I covered the hole with my shoe, sliding dirt into it little by little, until the small grave for the ring was completely covered.

I stood, staring at the carved rock a little longer, before turning, marching out of the graveyard without a second glance.

* * *

><p>I tossed Coach's door open, starting the man as he studied the game film being projected onto the wall of his darkened office.<p>

"Strife?" he blinked at the sudden intrusion of light. I crossed the room, a new fire in my eyes. I stared at him, sizing him up.

"I want it," I said strongly. Coach paused, thinking momentarily.

"I have it queued up to several of their defensive schemes," he nodded. "We'll have to figure out how to exploit them."

I sat in the chair next to him, as Coach hit play on the DVD player again, continuing to play the game film.

* * *

><p>"<em>Wow!" <em>

"_You got it right, Jimbo! What a performance by Strife! That'll quiet down a few of the skeptics!" _

"_The good news, as well, is that Nibelheim is definitely going to the playoffs! Four games until that state championship. Can you smell it already?"_

"_Damn right I can. Cloud Strife has led Nibelheim to a victory here tonight, 28-7. Playoffs start next week, so starting Monday we will have full analysis of the Dragons and their chances of winning it all! Have a good weekend, and we will see you when we see you! This is Bob, Jimbo and Scooter signing off. Goodnight, Nibelheim, enjoy the victory and, as always, go Dragons!"_


	9. Nine

**IX**

"Hey, Cloud."

"Hey," I responded, smiling at a pair of senior girls who stood against the wall. They looked at each other, giggling. You play one good football game in this town, and everyone loves you.

Funny how it works like that.

Nibelheim was going to the playoffs, four games until we were state champions. The unfortunate thing was how we limped into the playoffs, dropping two of our final three caused us to back into the post-season as the lowest seed possible, playing the number one seed.

Modeoheim.

It was going to be very different this time around. Not only is it a single elimination playoff game, this is the team that saw me first hand. They had the longest exposure to me, and not to mention, they have film. Loz and company are going to be ready for me this time. They're going to prepare, watch what throws I made and what ones I messed up one. Loz is going to stick around as a spy, watch me in the pocket, make sure I don't scramble up field or dump off a short screen pass.

So, in order to match their preparation, I'd been doing a bit of my own. Coach had fully opened up the playbook, every play that Zack could run, I can now run. Practices this week had been brutal. I spent more time than any of the other players on various things. Footwork. Routes. Coupled with a work schedule and school, not to mention taking care of Mom, I was exhausted. Physically and mentally.

Aerith helped.

She came over every day, after work or practice, and did various things to cheer me up. Cooked me dinner, gave me a massage. Things of that nature. I didn't really get what was happening, and still don't. We discussed the night we had sex, and both considered it a mistake. We weren't dating, but weren't just friends either. It's hard to explain. I guess we're just two people drawn together by the turmoil in our lives. We latched onto each other, riding out the remnants of the storm that was Zack's death. We were the only two people who truly understood each other.

I closed my locker door, sighing. A variety of notes and decorations, crudely cut footballs with the number four on them, as well as declarations of love, were taped or otherwise stuck onto the front of my locker. Gifts from admirers. For me, the savior of their football program. The guy who brought them from the brink of failure and returned them to the playoffs.

Did they just suddenly forget how badly I struggled just two games ago?

I swallowed, feeling nervousness creep up within my stomach. Was I ready for this? Could I really lead us onto the field in the playoffs? I didn't know, honestly.

Sephiroth.

Did he feel this too? What about Zack? Does the idea of fame and fortune, of being a hero, does that overtake the nervousness?

… Guess I would find out on Friday.

I turned, heading away from the hustle and bustle of the hallways and toward Spanish, all by its lonesome in the corner of the building. Numerous people smiled or waved at me, a few even greeted me. It was a strange departure from being nearly invisible like I had been for so many years.

Something made me pause in the middle of the hallway, though.

I stared toward the exit, one door propped open by a guy I'd never seen before. His long black hair was further accented by his black t-shirt, a mix of skulls and dragons and the name of a band I'd never heard of. A number of chains dangled from his too-tight jeans. Did his sister know he raided her closet?

And who was the vampire talking to?

Tifa.

She was laughing, clutching her books tight, and something the vampire said to her. She chatted animatedly back. Smiling, gesturing…

What…? Who was that guy? My heart rate picked up as I stepped forward. My brain was acting on impulse. What was I doing? I stopped after a few steps, just as Tifa stared down the hallway at me. I turned my head, heading into the open Spanish door, not sparing a backward glance.

The majority of the students were already sitting in their spot of choice, all facing inward in that weird class-bonding-but-not-really circle of desks. I slid into my usual desk, getting a smile from a girl on one side of me, a wink from one on the other.

Mrs. Ester stepped into the circle, making her way around, slapping a single page quiz in front of every student. She gave one to the girl to the left of me, and then…

To the girl to the right of me. Hang on.

She continued around the circle giving quizzes to every student.

Except me.

I looked around, the scratching of pencils filling the void of silence as every student had their head down and were writing away.

I ungracefully slid out of my desk, hopping on one leg as my foot got hooked behind one leg of the desk, and stealthily made my way toward Mrs. Ester's desk. She was tapping away at her computer using only her index fingers.

"Yes, Cloud?"

"Mrs. Ester, you didn't give me a quiz," I whispered, confused that she didn't realize it right away.

"No, you got one," she responded without looking up from her computer.

What?

"What? No… I didn't. You skipped over me."

"Cloud," she sighed, folding her hands and looking up at me. "If I, a respected, long-tenured teacher, said you not only got a quiz, but you aced it with flying colors… people tend to believe me. And if you aced my quiz so quickly and easily, it would give you ample time to study up on a different subject. Say… Modeoheim's 3-4 defense and blitzing scheme."

I smiled, shaking my head. Mrs. Ester's face was a mask of dread seriousness. Wait. What the…

The smile slowly fell off my face as the realization struck me.

"Holy shi- cow, you're not joking."

"I never joke, Cloud. That 'A' brought up your grade by a little bit," she said, returning to chicken-pecking her keyboard. "Good luck on Friday."

* * *

><p>"Ready!" I called, back in the shotgun formation. Coach Taylor crouched on the line of scrimmage, simulating the center. A group of stand up blocking dummies, oversized punching bags that stood by themselves, simulated the offensive line. "White twenty-two! White twenty-two! Set… Go!"<p>

I faked the hand off to the second team running back, looking over the field. Rude, who was simulating Loz with his about equal speed, was firing through the gap of the offensive line. I spun, finding and firing a bullet to Reeve, who had cut his slant route perfectly. Rude wrapped around me in a bear hug just as I released the ball.

The ball slapped into Reeve's hands and fell harmlessly to the turf. I pulled my chinstrap off in frustration as Rude clapped me on the top of the helmet, jogging back to the defensive side of the field.

Coach's whistle pierced the cold afternoon air.

"Tootsie!" he called. "What happened?"

"Didn't catch the ball, sir," Reeve said softly.

"You didn't catch the best ball Strife has ever, and probably will ever throw? You can't ask for a more perfect opportunity than that. Get over with the special teams, son."

Reeve nodded, jogging over to where Reno was telling a joke to the special teams players, who were all on a knee and laughing uproariously.

Normally Reeve would've been cut by this point, but due to Sephiroth unexpectedly quitting and Doug's season-ending knee injury, we're really scraping the bottom of the barrel with receivers.

"Nice throw, Strife," Coach said, blowing his whistle, allowing me to huddle up with the few position players that were practicing with me. A bunch of new receivers called up from the JV team, fresh faced freshmen or sophomores, their helmets almost looking too big for their heads.

"Red eleven. Trips left, bubble screen. On go. Ready? Break!" I called, as the receivers jogged to their positions. I didn't need a mouth guard for practice, we were only wearing helmets, no other padding at all.

"Red eleven! Red eleven! Set… Go!"

As I let go of the pass, I was struck with a realization of what I had to do. How we could win this game. If I was a long shot before, and they were scheming for me now, it's time to give them another long shot. I took my helmet off, jogging over to Coach. The older man gave me a puzzled look, spitting a long string of tobacco onto the grass.

"I want to work with Reeve," I said, gesturing to the nerd. "I think he can help us quite a bit."

Coach considered this for a moment, then nodded, calling for Kunsel to get in and take some reps. I jogged over to Reeve, who looked nervous as hell at me approaching.

"Go put on your pads and meet me out here in five minutes," I said, as Reeve just stared at me, uncomprehending. "Go!"

He complied, jogging back to the locker room and disappearing inside the school building. I stood alone on the side of the field while I waited, idly throwing a football in the air and snagging it as it fell to eye level.

It took Reeve more than five minutes to put his pads on, and he was still awkwardly trying to pull his practice jersey on over his left shoulder pad as he jogged back out to me. I helped him, working the pad back under the jersey.

"Take these," I said, giving Reeve a pair of gloves. The palm side was covered in several sticky pads. "Receiver gloves. A spare set I stole from Sephiroth."

"Thanks, Cloud," Reeve said sincerely, pulling the gloves on.

"Reeve, I'm going to be honest with you. You're fast as hell, but you suck something awful."

Reeve blinked.

"That's why I'm going to personally help you out. When you go out there on Friday, you're going to be our ace. Our secret weapon."

"Secret weapon? But I- Cloud, I can't play against them," he stammered nervously.

"You can, and you will," I said, driving a finger into the center of his chest. "No one has any game film on you; no one knows who you are. We're going to work on catching the ball, and then you're going to go out there, and you're going to fuck Loz and Kadaj and Jasmine or-whatever-the-fuck-their-names-are right in the ass."

Reeve blinked, a look of shock on his face. I think I made him imagine himself doing the Remnant brothers.

"Wow, Cloud… you're really confident."

I blinked. No, I'm not, Reeve. In fact, I'm probably more terrified than you are.

"Do you really think I can do this?" Reeve asked, buckling his chinstrap.

I nodded, putting on a small smile.

"Yeah… Yeah, I do, Reeve."

We worked on basic techniques, things any player starting to play football should know. Catching and protecting the ball, switching hands to use your free one to stiff-arm the opposition, double move routes.

Reeve still had a lot of work to do, but his nerdy background made it easier for him to learn and memorize the routes, relating to them by math terminology and angles. It was all a bit over my head.

He followed me to work, and it was a strange parallel to my life before. I stood behind the register, helping customers with their orders, but at the same time, I was giving Reeve play calls as if I would in the huddle.

"White forty-four," I said, handing a customer his extra large drink cup. Reeve considered a moment, and then scrawled a button hook on the whiteboard usually reserved for daily specials.

The squeaking of the old marker across the glossy surface sent a shiver down my spine, but Reeve stepped back, capping the marker.

"Not bad," I said, turning back to the playbook. "Uhh… let's give you a harder one."

I flipped the pages, hearing the chime of the door opening but not looking up. A jangling sound, like someone rattling a chain, continued as heavy footsteps approached the counter.

"Cloud," Reeve said softly. I waved him off.

"I'll get to him in a minute."

"Cloud?"

I froze, slowly lifting my head. My mouth suddenly dried up.

"Hey, Tifa."

She smiled softly, an attempt to disarm me and break the tension that had instantly erected between us.

"I didn't know you were working today."

"Yeah, yeah I am. What can I get you?" I asked, shifting my eyes over her left shoulder.

The vampire was standing there, shaded a bit behind her, his one visible eye was staring at me.

"Oh," she noticed my stare, turning around. "Cloud, this is Vincent. He's the new bartender for my dad. I'm showing him around."

"Hey, man," I muttered, extending a hand. He coolly nodded at me, keeping his arms crossed. I shot Tifa a look. "Bartender, huh? Where do you go to school?"

"I don't," Vincent responded, his voice cold and dead. "I'm in a band."

"Don't have too many of those around here," I said, staring at Tifa. She shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably under my eyes. "I assume you don't play country music."

"Good guess," he responded, brushing hair from his face and glaring at me. The tension that was between Tifa and I was nowhere near this amount. I'm surprised sparks weren't flying out of our eyes.

"Cloud!" Lilly called from the kitchen. "Stop abusing the customers and take their damn order!"

I grunted, cleared my throat and looked down at the cash register.

"What can I get you?" I said softly.

* * *

><p>"<em>Ladies and gentlemen, this is what we've been waiting for."<em>

"_The build up to this moment has been almost too much for me, Jimbo. I actually had trouble sleeping last night."_

"_Here we are; the first round of the state championship! It's Nibelheim vs. Modeoheim. I know a lot of you listeners didn't make it out to the game, what with it being on the neutral field in Junon and all, so we're excited you have decided to join us!"_

I stood on the thirty yard line, wearing my long sleeve Under Armor shirt and a pair of basketball shorts, throwing a football to Ricky. The lanky senior caught it, handing the ball to Kunsel, who fired it toward Reeve. Even through the thumping bass of my headphones, I could hear the slap of flesh meeting leather as Reeve caught the ball, not very gracefully, and handed it over.

I stared ahead, taking the ball without glancing at the dark haired junior, mouthing the words of the song while throwing another pass toward Ricky. I stretched my arm, pulling it over my chest as Reeve caught Kunsel's pass back toward us.

"_The big news here is Cloud Strife. After last week's game, as well as his previous performance against Modeoheim, they are going to be ready for him. It's interesting to see how he will perform after Modeoheim has seen his game film and made a plan to stop him."_

* * *

><p>I was in the locker room, sitting on the small trainer's bench; an uncomfortable bed that wouldn't look out of place in a horror movie doctor's office. The trainers taped up my ankles. My headphones were still in, the music specially selected to get me amped up and ready for the game.<p>

"_Both teams have travelled well, and their respective fan bases will be loud and proud today. Once again, I'm sure it will come down to Nibelheim's offense against Modeoheim's defense."_

I pulled my pads on, finally removing the headphones from my ears and tucking the iPod away into the guest locker with a piece of masking tape with 'Strife' scrawled across it in Sharpie designating it for me. I buckled my flak jacket into its designated spot, slapping myself across the chest to make sure it was snugly secured.

My heart started thumping wildly, and I forced myself to breathe easy. Deep breath in… hold it… deep breath out. Come on, Cloud. Stay focused.

My white jersey went on next, pulled over my shoulder pads and tucked into my pants. I absently ran a hand through my hair, spiking it up after it was flattened by the mesh.

A new jar of eye black sat in my locker, and as per tradition, I reached for it, tearing the plastic wrapping around it off. Dip, swipe, dip swipe; a pair of greasy black lines sat high on my cheek bones, partially absorbing the light that bounced toward my eyes.

The locker room was eerily silent. Reno absently tapped his cleats on the ground, mumbling to himself. Rufus had his eyes closed, bobbing his head as his leg twitched. Rude sat mostly stoic, except he was twiddling his thumbs like a mad man. Reeve unstrapped and adjusted his gloves for the umpteenth time, flexing his hands and staring at his palms.

"Can you feel that?" I asked loudly, surprising even myself. "That thing that's beatin' in your goddamn chest right now?"

Mine was thumping loudly. It was hard to believe that none of my teammates could hear it.

"Can you feel that? Can you feel what's about to happen out there? On the field?"

Everyone turned their eyes to me, as I walked into the center of the locker room. I never had done anything like this, what the hell was I doing? My heart was thumping madly. Whether it was nerves from the upcoming game or this intense bit of public speaking, I didn't know.

"We're here for one reason," I continued. "One single reason. We play our minds out. We leave our hearts on the field. It isn't about winning, and it sure as hell ain't about losing. Zack is the only thing we are playing for tonight. He's family. Let's do it for number one."

The players whooped and hollered, getting to their feet and approaching me, hands in the air. We brought it in, our fists toward the ceiling, heads down.

"Nibelheim on three," I commanded. "One, two, three…"

"Nibelheim!"

* * *

><p>"… <em>for starting receivers you see Ricky Donnelly, of course, as well as a surprise move of Reeve Tuesti."<em>

"_The kid played a few snaps all year, but injuries have decimated this receiving core, so you're really out of luck here."_

"_Rude Richardson is starting as your tailback. And number four, Cloud Strife, is under center today."_

I grabbed a sleeve of Zack's jersey, taking the hand of Rufus on my left, and walked out into the center of the field… maintaining eye contact with Kadaj as he and his brothers approached from the opposite side.

"Gentlemen," the head referee said, as we approached. "Congratulations on making it to the first round of the playoffs."

I continued to stare Kadaj in the eyes, as Rufus stared down Yazoo. Rude and Loz glared pure death at each other, Rude craning his neck up to look at the nearly one foot taller Loz. There was no love lost between any of us.

"You all know the rules, so I'm not going to bore you with the details. Remember to keep your head up, and only hit what you can see. We don't want any injuries here. Nibelheim, as the visitors, it is your call. This is heads," the referee showed us one side of the oversized coin, stamped with the logo of the National Federation of State High School Football. He then flipped it over, revealing an image of the state. "This is tails. Nibelheim, what is your call?"

"Tails," Rufus said confidently.

"Tails it is," the head ref nodded, tossing the coin in the air. It glinted once in the lights, before tumbling to the turf. We all watched it bounce off of the artificial grass, where it landed NFHS side up. "It is heads. Modeoheim?"

"We'll defer," Kadaj grinned at me. I stared back, blank-faced.

"We want to defend that end," Rufus said, gesturing to the side where our fans were congregated. The head ref nodded.

"Shake hands, and good luck to all of you, gentlemen," he said, as he took a few steps back, addressing the crowd.

"Modeoheim has won the toss, and has elected to kick," he said, his voice booming over the P.A. system. As I reached forward, shaking Kadaj's hand, and then Yazoo's. Finally, Loz. He squeezed my hand tightly.

"I'll see you out there," he said menacingly.

"I'll be the guy passing all over you," I said coolly. The three brothers turned and walked back to their sideline.

And then I caught a glance of silver hair, not belonging to the Remnant brothers.

Sephiroth.

He was standing in street clothes, arms crossed, next to their head coach.

What the hell is he doing there?

"Cloud," Rude said, standing next to me. He clutched Zack's right sleeve. "Let's go."

"Right," I muttered, nodding my head, finally breaking my stare, turning my back on Sephiroth and heading back to the sideline.

I let go of Zack's jersey, letting the team manager take it and slide it over a PVC pipe frame, making it look like someone was wearing it, and stood it up on the ten foot pipe, towering Zack's jersey over our sideline.

I snapped my chinstrap into place, making sure all of my accessories were in place. QB wrist, check. Towel, check. Hand warmer pouch, check. Mouth guard?

I plucked it from in between a pair of bars on my facemask, sliding it into my mouth. Check.

I stretched my arms, hopping on the balls of my feet, as Modeoheim's kicker sent a booming kick spinning through the air.

"_And here we go!"_

The second string running back took the ball in his chest, wrapping his arms protectively around it and started running. He made it to about the 26 yard line before he was taken down by a group of Modeoheim defenders.

I guess it was go time.

Coach motioned for the offense to huddle up around him.

"Same plan as last time," he said. "No huddle, spread 'em out and burn them. Lots of audibles, motion. Strife, look over at me before you get the ball in case we want to change something. Let's do this, boys. Hands in. One, two, three-"

"Win!" we yelled, dropping our hands and jogging out to the field. I turned, halfway out, reading the signs Kunsel ran through quickly. I spun, jogging out to the line. I pulled the mouth guard out of my mouth.

"Black sixteen!" I yelled, the noise of the Modeoheim fans screaming and stomping their feet rising to the highest level they've been tonight. "Black sixteen!"

The receivers moved, running to their positions in the formation. Loz danced dangerously close to the line. I checked my QB wristband, finding Black-16 and reading the audible for a flip…

"Rover, rover!" I called, turning to Rude who was lined up behind me. I leaned over to the grouping of receivers on the right. "Rover! Set! Go!"

The ball was shoved into my hands, and I took a step back, handing the ball off to Rude who ran up the left side, making it through the hole and picking up seven yards on the carry.

"On the line!" I yelled, mind made up about the next play. "Grey twenty! Grey twenty!"

The number was of no coincidence, something that Modeoheim would hopefully not catch on to. Our team lined up in a random formation, one that looked realistic enough to pass off, and then performed a hard snap count, designed to draw the opponent off sides.

"_Richardson plows ahead. Gain of about seven on the play. No surprise here as Nibelheim quickly moves to a no-huddle offense, Strife is hustling his people to the line."_

"Ready! Set… Hut, HUT!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. Our entire team remained still, as Loz quickly rushed through the line, hands instantly grasping the sides of his facemask as he instantly knew his mistake. Whistles pierced through the air, as the Modeoheim crowd settled down groaning slightly.

I motioned for us to huddle up, while we waited for the head referee to make his call.

"Can't be doing that too often," I said.

"Encroachment, number 69, defense. Five yard penalty, first down!"

"_Looks like Loz Remnant got a little jumpy on that last play."_

"Red eleven. Trips left, bubble screen to Ricky. Just like in practice, boys. Ready?" I said, staring at the play on my wristband, index finger keeping my place.

"Break!" I slapped my hands together, as we trotted out to our positions. Rather than approaching the line, Loz roamed side to side this time. He was learning.

"Set," I was lined up in the shotgun formation. I punched down, readying my hands to receive the snap. The ball spiraled back into my hands, as I took a few steps back, surveying the field.

There was no pop of pads, my offensive line pulled left, allowing free access for the Modeoheim defenders. I spun, flinging the ball over to Ricky on the left side, jogging lightly away as a Modeoheim defender got his hands on me.

"_Strife takes the snap, quick drop and fires a pass to Carter in the flat. It's a screen. Carter heads up field before he is taken down. A nice eleven yard gain there by the Dragons."_

So, they're being overly aggressive, they think they can rattle me. I looked over at the sideline as we moved to the ball once more, checking my wrist as Kunsel ran through the signs.

"_Strife has the call, makes the adjustments at the line. Ball is snapped, he drops back, surveys the field, he throws it deep… he's got a man open! The ball is bobbled but secured, and Nibelheim strikes first! Touchdown Dragons! A perfect fade pass from Strife to… Reeve Tuesti, who has his first catch of the season, and it's a big one!"_

I put my hands up, signaling touchdown in case the referees didn't notice it yet, as I ran down the field in celebration, jumping and shoulder checking Ricky. Our pads popped with the contact.

Reeve completely blew past the guy who was defending him, and Yazoo had dropped forward in order to cover Rude who went out in a short route, in order to be there in case I got in trouble.

I met Reeve halfway down the field, he was jogging to the sideline, eyes wide, still holding the ball in his hands, as our crowd roared its approval.

"Not too bad, right?" I asked him, clapping him on the shoulder pads, and hustling to the sideline. Coach stepped up to me, clapping us both on the helmets.

"Nice throw and catch, boys," he said with a grin. "Strife, I want you holding Reno's kicks. We want to make 'em think we're gonna do some fakes."

"Right," I said, impressed with how bold Coach was being this game. I jogged out to the line, where Reno was waiting.

"Laces out, Cloud," Reno said, staring between the uprights, no humor or smile in his voice or face. Reno? Being serious for once? I was shocked.

I took a knee a few yards behind the long snapper, planting one hand on the turf. Reno came up, putting the toe of his right foot up against my hand, before taking three steps back. He paused, took a deep breath, and took three steps to the left, still staring at the uprights. He glanced at me, nodding.

"Hike!" I called, holding my hands ready to get the ball. It spun back to me, and I snagged it out of midair, quickly putting it down. Grunts and the pop of pads reached my ears as the linemen held their ground, protecting their holder and kicker from Modeoheim.

A single finger from my right hand held the ball in place, point down in the turf, as I quickly spun the ball, so the laces were out and the smooth leather side was visible. All the while, Reno ran forward, flexing his right leg back and planting his left leg solidly on the ground. He kicked the ball, his leg swinging powerfully through and ripping the ball from my hands. It tumbled end over end through the uprights as I got to my feet, slapping Reno's hand and patting the top of his helmet.

"Good kick," I said as Reno exhaled loudly. We jogged over to the sidelines, as Reno took the kicking tee from the special teams coach. I unbuckled my helmet, taking it off and heading to the steel bench behind the team. Players congratulated me, slapping me on my pads and murmuring words.

Sitting down heavily, I set my helmet next to me as Kunsel and Coach Taylor came over.

"What'd you see, Strife?"

"Nothing different than what we practiced," I said, taking the whiteboard that Coach Taylor had and drawing the lines and arrows, revealing what I read in the defense. "Loz is still blitz happy. I went to the hard count early to see if we could buy some time. It worked, but now he'll probably be on to it. I don't think it'll work again, but Loz'll stop jumping the snap. Kadaj is jamming Ricky at the line, and it's making it difficult for him to get free, while Yazoo is playing more of a shallow zone."

Taylor nodded, as Kunsel chewed on his thumbnail, watching me draw.

"I have a hunch they're going to jam Reeve at the line now," I concluded.

"We're going to run more motion, get Ricky moving when we snap it, keep Kadaj away from him," Taylor said, taking the whiteboard, hustling over to Coach as he called the defensive plays.

I leaned back, tossing my arms over the bench, throwing my head backwards.

I felt… calm. It was the polar opposite of the feelings that had bubbled and brewed within me throughout the past week. All of the nervousness, the anxiety I had felt, was gone. Washed away. Forgotten about as the clock counting down to kick off ran out, and the siren screamed.

I was completely at ease, relishing the roar of approval from our fans and the groans of disapproval from the Modeoheim fans.

The gridiron, this battlefield… it was my home.

A moan, like from the throat of the living dead, erupted from our fans. I opened my eyes, watching Modeoheim's running back explode through our secondary and glide easily into the endzone. I got to my feet as Coach yelled at the defensive coordinator, who in turn yelled at his players.

Grabbing my helmet, I cast a fleeting glance at our stands. Aerith was in the front row, like usual, hands clasped tightly together. Her hair was tied up in her trademark pink ribbon, and she wore Zack's away jersey.

I turned back to the field, before stopping, a frown tugging my lips downward. I spun again, sliding my helmet on.

Tifa stood near the back of the stands, talking to Vincent, the bartender. The guy looked bored to tears, looking away from the field as his mouth moved in words I couldn't hear.

"Strife!"

I spun, buckling my helmet, jogging onto the field. No huddle again, my team was standing on the line as Loz hopped, waving his arms in the air, encouraging the Modeoheim faithful to get louder. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, my heartbeat becoming louder and louder.

_Thump-thump… thump-thump…_

It drowned out all other noises. My eyes snapped open, turning back toward the defense before Kunsel could give the signs.

A 4-3 set, Loz drifting to the left as the cornerbacks stayed close to the line. Man coverage. I tapped my helmet with my right hand, yelling at my receivers.

"Red twenty two!" I yelled. "Red twenty two!"

Rude jogged out onto the side of the field, lining up like a receiver. I lifted my foot, planted it, punched down and waited for the snap.

It didn't come. I stamped my foot, clapped my hands and punched again.

One of our linemen shifted, causing several Modeoheim defenders to jump, pointing at him as yellow flags came flying in. I removed my mouth guard, and glared at my line with my hands on my hips. We walked backwards five yards. False start. I looked over at the sideline. Kunsel ran through the signs. I turned, lining up.

"_Strife under center, he takes the snap, drops back…"_

In an instant, the floodgates opened, and the Modeoheim defenders bull-rushed me through the offensive line. Planting my foot, I managed to elude one would-be tackler, sending the large lineman to the ground. My feet churned, and I started running, trying to escape. A pair of outstretched arms loomed over me, and I just barely managed to duck under them, turning my body as I kept my eyes downfield, searching for a target.

It felt like a sledgehammer had hit me in the chest, as I was pulled off balance. All of the air in my lungs exploded forward in a grunt, luckily I kept enough of my mind to wrap the ball up protectively as I went to the ground, landing hard and feeling the weight of a large locomotive land on top of me.

A locomotive made up entirely of testosterone and hair gel.

"Hey Strife," Loz said, smashing his facemask against mine. "Eat shit."

He rolled off of me, spreading his arms and throwing his head back, roaring to the heavens. Wearily pulling myself to my feet, I tossed the ball to the referee who approached.

Rude jogged over to me, reaching out. He helped me tuck a shoulder pad back under my jersey, jarred loose from the hit. Sephiroth gazed on from the Modeoheim sidelines, a ghost of a smile on his face.

"_Nibelheim has backed themselves into a hole with that sack. They are now facing 2__nd__ and long. Strife, lined up in the shotgun formation, lifts his leg. Ricky Carter in motion, Strife gets the ball. Hands the ball to Carter- no, it's a fake! Fake sweep. Strife is in trouble, rolls right… pump fakes, and then just throws it away just as he is brought down hard. 3__rd__ and long."_

A lineman hauled me to my feet, slapping me on the butt with a mumbled 'sorry'. Sephiroth stood behind me, staring at me with the same cold eyes he always did.

"Cloud," I hated his voice, empty and grating. Deciding to ignore him, I jogged back to the line.

"_Strife in the shotgun formation, empty backfield…"_

The ball was snapped back to me, allowing me to shift my feet and spin the ball, fingers falling upon the laces. A defender shoved my right tackle backward, causing me to take a few steps to my left, looking off Ricky and noticing that Reeve had cut off his route and was streaking across the middle, hand raised tentatively as if unsure he should be calling for the ball.

A perfect spiral left my hand, heading toward the receiver. Reeve lifted his hands, as the ball hit right in front of him in stride-

Crunch! Reeve was laid out, as Kadaj came flying in, driving his forearms into Reeve's chest, sending him toppling backwards and causing the ball to fly through the air, skipping harmlessly on the turf.

Spitting my mouth guard into my hand, I unstrapped my helmet, walking to where Reeve lay on the ground, legs moving slightly. Kadaj and Loz high fived, jogging back to the sideline.

"Ow," Reeve muttered as I approached.

"Sorry," I said simply. "Should've been more careful leading you across the middle. Forgot you've never been hit before."

He shook his head, taking the hand I offered as I pulled him to his feet.

* * *

><p>Coach stared, white-knuckling his clipboard as it came down to this. Modeoheim had lined up for a 36-yard field goal, which would give them a four point lead with 2:36 remaining in the game. I held the collar of my pads, ignoring the dull pain that throbbed through my bruised and battered body.<p>

Our defense couldn't stop Modeoheim's mediocre offense this time. They had scored two more touchdowns before this point. I led the offense down the field three times, giving a touchdown to Rude once, and allowing Reno to kick a pair of field goals, cutting the lead down to one.

That is, unless Modeoheim makes this kick.

"Miss it," Coach whispered hoarsely. "Miss it."

He didn't miss. The ball sailed perfectly through the uprights as Modeoheim's side went nuts. They were up by four points with 2:31 remaining.

"Shit," Rufus muttered, turning from the field and taking a few steps into the throng of players.

Zack's jersey was held high over our sideline, as our fans were silent, agonizing over what was being asked. The number one defense in the state, number four in the nation, was standing in between me and total victory. And I had two and a half minutes to destroy them. The black number one jersey caught my eye, and I stared at it as Modeoheim kicked the ball off.

There were no butterflies in my stomach. In fact, if anything, I felt ready. Amped. Excited. This was my moment. This is what Sephiroth was talking about.

No timeouts left. Nibelheim was completely relying on me.

I snapped my chinstrap into place as I ran out onto the field.

"_This is it, the last shot the Dragons have. Strife lined up in shotgun formation, empty backfield. Looks like Modeoheim is in a 'prevent' defense."_

The ball was snapped to me, I fired a perfect spiral to Ricky on his quick out-route, getting out of bounds after an 8 yard gain, stopping the clock.

"_Quick passes like that are the way to pick apart this defense. Nice job by Strife."_

Another quick pass, to a player who was on JV last week. He managed to hold onto the ball, taken down just before he got out of bounds. A first down, however.

"To the line!" I called. "Get lined up!"

A quick glance at the clock. 2:06. Come on, Cloud, hurry it up. I looked down at my wrist band, looking for a play that would work.

"Black fourteen!" I called, voice cracking as I tried to scream over the pandemonium that was Modeoheim's fans.. "Black fourteen!"

1:59.

It was a terrible snap, going wide. I lunged out with my right hand, slapping the ball in the air and stopping its backwards progress. Snatching it out of midair, I tried to make a play, but was quickly taken down by one of Modeoheim's linemen, barely managing to throw the ball beforehand.

My pass skipped in front of Ricky, just as I intended it to. However, the ref blew his whistle, waving his arm, to signal the game clock to keep going.

"What are you talking about?" I exploded. "It was an incomplete pass!"

"Your knee was down before you threw it," he said matter-of-factly, motioning at the clock. "You might want to hurry."

1:32.

65 yards to go.

Shit, shit.

"_I don't think he was down there."_

"_Strife hustling the Dragons to the line, gets the snap, completes the pass to Tuesti… but he's kept in bounds by Yazoo Remnant! Time's ticking away!"_

"Spike!" I yelled, pantomiming throwing the ball down. It took a bit to get everyone settle, and as the ball was thrust into my hands and I slammed it harmlessly into the turf, too much time had rolled off the clock.

0:59.

We were just short of the first down, and it was third down. We had to get a first here.

"_Strife gets the play. Empty backfield. Strife takes the snap- he's going to keep it himself! He runs around the edge, gets the first down and more! He's across midfield! Across the forty!"_

A weight attached itself to me as I was dragged down, barely managing to get out of bounds before I collapsed. I turned, noticing Kadaj breathing heavily, getting to his feet.

My eyes flickered to Zack's jersey.

0:42.

"_Once again, empty backfield. Strife takes the snap. It's a blitz! Strife can't get away and he's dragged down by Loz Remnant!"_

A perfect play call by Modeoheim at the perfect time. I grunted, shoving Loz off of me as I called for the spike once more. Bad. Real bad. It was chaos. Modeoheim players were taking their time allowing us to reset, my team looked out of sorts, nervous and panicky. Modeoheim's fans roared, louder than any I had ever heard. I finally got everyone situated.

Slamming the ball into the ground, I sighed, looking up at the clock. The number burned into my eyes.

0:07.

One final play to decide our season.

"Huddle up!" I called, interlocking my fingers. My team circled around me, breathing heavily.

"I know you're tired, I know you're hurting, hell, I am too," I panted. "But I need you all to give it your all. One more time. We can beat these guys. We're going Red twenty two. Red twenty two. Let's punch this in for Zack. Silent count, look for my go signal. Ready?"

"Break!"

Closing my eyes, I focused on my breathing. Once more, no butterflies… simply…

Calm.

The dull roar of Modeoheim's fans snapped me out of my zen-like trance. I looked left, noticing Kadaj was on Reeve. I blinked in surprise. Didn't expect that.

A single downward punch signified the beginning.

As if in slow motion, the football spiraled back toward me. A perfect snap. I could make out every individual molecule of the ball as I caught it, dropping my right foot back into an athletic stance, bringing my right elbow up.

A chorus of shouting came from my left, the Modeoheim side of the field, but I didn't pay it any attention. I was watching the play develop.

Kadaj jammed Reeve at the line of scrimmage, hitting the inexperienced receiver and forcing him back, narrowing my targets-

Ricky made his cut as soon as he stepped in the end zone, crossing the front of it while frantically waving his hand.

Loz burst through the line, lunging at me with a cry of pure animal instinct.

My eyes were only on Ricky, though, as I cocked. Loz smashed into me, whiplashing my head back, as I cried out, launching the ball with as much strength as I could muster for being tackled to the ground.

The ball left my hand cleanly.

0:00.

A hush fell over the stadium, as fans of both sides watched my lame duck pass quack feebly through the air, toward the end zone. I had enough arm for it. It could make it.

I shoved Loz off of me, getting to my feet, my own breath frozen in my chest.

The ball reached Ricky…

He leapt in the air…

Extended, reached…

The ball skipped off the end of his fingertips and bounced out of the back of the end zone.

Incomplete.

My hands instantly went to the top of my head, my brain not quite registering what happened, even as Modeoheim celebrated around me. Ricky collapsed to the ground, pounding his fist in the turf, as my teammates looked around at each other, blinking.

It was over.

I lost.

Instantly, the realization struck me, and I fell to my knees, staring stupidly at the ball, lying on its side behind the end zone.

No…

No.

No! It wasn't supposed to end like this!

Modeoheim fans leapt off of the bleachers running toward their team as they celebrated moving on to the next step. Nibelheim players shuffled off the field as our fans silently and dejectedly left the stadium, heading home.

I was alone in the center of the field, our fans exiting past where the ball ended up.

There was one person who paused, watching me in my anguish, an unreadable expression on her face.

Tifa.

She looked like she wanted to come console me, to help me.

But then Vincent swept her away. Tifa shot me one last look before disappearing in the somber sea of Nibelheim black.

I felt a hand on my shoulder pad, finally turning my head to see Aerith standing there, a look of understanding on her face.

My bruised and bloody hand found hers, fingers interlacing, holding onto her for support.

I lost the game.

I had no sense of time, it was warped, so I had no idea when I finally left the field. Several seniors, like Ricky, who would not have the opportunity to play football at the next level, sat in their lockers, openly crying.

The shock that something they had put their whole lives into, so much blood, sweat and tears, and that they would never be able to play it again hurt. I felt hollow inside. It was my fault, my fault that they didn't have the championship they deserved. Both through Zack's death and my inability to complete a pass.

I showered, dressed and left the locker room, my bag of equipment slung over my shoulder. Would I just continually let this team down? Was that my role in life?

"Not quite the way you wanted it to end, huh, kid?"

A voice behind me made me turn, noticing a middle aged man lounging against the wall outside the locker room. He was wearing a suit, cheap, but well tailored, that matched his graying hair. He lit a cigarette that was clutched between his teeth.

"Not quite," I said softly. "Who are you?"

"I've been watching you pretty closely, Cloud Strife. You got some potential. And I'm excited as hell to see what you do next year."

This was getting kind of creepy.

"Thanks, but that didn't answer my question."

He exhaled, a long cloud of smoke, reaching forward and shaking my hand. He handed me a business card as well.

"My name's Cid Highwind. I want to talk to you about playing for Costa del Sol University."


	10. Ten

**X**

"I think you got the wrong guy," I said, handing the card back to Cid.

"What makes you say that?" he responded, not taking his own business card back, tapping the ash off of his cigarette.

"I lost," the words were bitter leaving my mouth. My heart was heavy with disappointment, and something was bubbling under the surface. Some emotion, one that I don't think I had ever felt yet. I couldn't describe it.

"True, but you played a hell of a game," he took a long drag on his cigarette, exhaling with his next words. "Sometimes winning ain't everything."

"If you're pitching me on your school, you're not doing a very good job."

"Shit, I guess that's true," he said with a shrug. "I'm the offensive coordinator over at CDSU. I think you'd be a perfect fit for our system."

The front of the card drew my eye. Cid Highwind. Offensive coordinator. Costa del Sol University Chocobos.

"Cid Highwind," the name stirred a memory in the back of my mind. "The quarterback?"

"Once," he responded with a shrug. "That was a long time ago."

Cid Highwind was considered the greatest quarterback to ever play at the collegiate level. He led Rocket Town Tech to two national championships, set numerous records in the NCAA and was highly sought after by every pro team. Forgoing his senior year, he left to the NFL draft and was selected with the first overall pick.

The next few years were nothing short of disastrous.

Highwind was arrested several times, found himself battling a well-documented addiction to painkillers and never produced on the field. He was labeled as the biggest bust in the history of the NFL, and was cut from every team that dared to take a chance on him.

"Look, kid, I don't expect you to answer right now. Just know that I've got my eye on you."

"Thanks," I responded, sliding the card into my pocket. Cid reached out, shook my hand, stubbed out his cigarette on the wall and disappeared around the corner.

A few of my teammates emerged from the locker room, looking down, heading toward the idling school bus a few feet away. I stared at the corner Cid disappeared around, as if waiting for him to come back.

* * *

><p>The sky slowly changed from soul-crushing grey to a not-so-depressing blue.<p>

The days blurred together, one blending with another. The monotony of life was getting to me. Wake up, shower, school, work, bed.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

We cleaned out our football lockers. It was a somber environment. I think we all thought that this day would come, eventually, with me at the helm of the team, but we locked it up deep within the recesses of our minds. Now that the reality was here, returning our pads to Coach and emptying the metal boxes struck a chord deep within us all.

It was over.

Some, like Rude, took the news more amicably than others. He knew for a fact that he was going to play at the next level, and had numerous colleges courting him. Reno and Rufus took it rather well, also. It meant more time for Reno to get fucked up, and Rufus, well…

He was already set for life. Perks of his father being worth a billion and a half dollars. What need did he have for football or college when he was going to inherit his father's oil empire?

Others, like Ricky, didn't fare as well. The receiver stood in the doorway of the equipment room for a long time, debating internally fiercely about whether or not he should return his helmet, or hold onto something that was so near and dear to him for four years of his life. Eventually, rationality won, and he begrudgingly handed the plastic over, leaving the locker room without a second glance.

I never saw Ricky again. A few years after that day, I'll hear that he'd dropped out of college after his junior year and joined the Air Force. His plane was shot down somewhere over the Middle East. They never found his body.

With a loud ripping sound, a janitor tore Zack's plaque from above his locker, tossing the slate into a mobile trashcan, before wheeling it over to the overflowing garbage bucket in the corner of the room. So, the mourning period was finally over. People were beginning to forget about Zack. Black clothes with the number one scrawled on them became less and less common until they faded away completely.

Then, they took down his memorial.

His parents came, taking the shoebox offered to them by the principal. All of the letters and messages overflowed from the cardboard, as the janitor took the picture of Zack down, which Zack's dad tucked under his arm. After that unceremonious ending to the stand, the Fairs left, and all traces of Zack had disappeared off the face of the school.

This was wrong.

He's dead, people. D-E-A-D. Dead. Zack is never coming back. Never going to walk down these halls again. Never going to complain about the lunch. Never going to get caught trying to sneak into the women's locker room. He is gone. Gone forever.

How could no one accept that but me? Was that how normal people grieved? A mourning period for a few moments and then forgotten about? Wiped away, like a bad test score. Something you grieved for for a few hours, and then promptly shoved aside in your mind.

What the fuck was wrong with these people?

I stood silently, watching all traces of Zack be cleaned out of the school. His locker was reassigned to a freshman that was having trouble with hers. I floated through the day in a haze, not wanting or willing to talk to anyone. Be it teachers or other students. Thankfully, people began ignoring me again, now that I wasn't the winning quarterback that people expected me to be. So funny how quickly they forget what you did before. For a while, I couldn't walk three feet without someone wishing me luck or smiling at me or congratulating me. Now, I was back to square one. I faded into the walls, somewhat grateful to return to the exterior of the social bubble.

But there was a nagging sprig of doubt in the back of my mind, begging to be scratched.

Aerith silently crept behind me, staring at the freshman struggle to open Zack's locker.

"Let's get out of here," she said softly. I nodded, finally tearing my eyes away just as the petite girl pulled the door open.

We headed for the exit, finding our way in the sea of people rushing to get to their classes or to lunch. Aerith pushed the doors open to the parking lot, disappearing in the cool spring sunlight, but I had stopped in my tracks.

My blue eyes had met Tifa's ruby ones, as she stood, alone, in the hall. Books clutched to her chest in her usual manner.

"Tifa…" the word was quiet as I matched her gaze. It wasn't accusing, or hurt. It was neutral, no emotion. As if I were simply a stranger. We hadn't talked since that night she came into the Tasty-Freeze. I tore my eyes away from hers, pushing the doors open.

"Sorry," I mumbled, too softly for her to hear.

Slumping into the seat of Aerith's car, I stared out the windshield, waiting for her to turn on the engine.

"I didn't get in," she said, breaking the silence. I looked at her in confusion. "To Cosmo Canyon. Anywhere. No college has accepted me. They've all either wait-listed me or flat out denied me."

"I'm sorry, Aerith."

"You're such a good person, Cloud," she turned to me, smiling through the tears that sparkled in her eyes. "You've put up with me through all of my bullshit, through all of this… insanity that's gripped my life."

"You're not the only one suffering through it," I said, turning and looking out the window. "Aerith…"

I hesitated. Lately, a hollow feeling had sunken into my soul. I had to exorcise this demon.

"It's all my fault. Zack's dead because of me. Because I drank too much. Because I wasn't strong enough to resist those people egging me on."

My peripherals caught Aerith staring at me, fresh tears running down her face, as I exhaled deeply, staring at the glove box.

She slapped me. Hard.

"I was there, Cloud," she seethed. "It's not like you were invisible and I was blind. I saw how much you drank. I saw Zack put you in his car, and I saw him drive you away. It was an accident, Cloud. This blame you keep holding onto will consume you…"

She sighed, wiping her eyes.

"'You can't define yourself on your failures,'" she continued, softer. "He always told me that. Cloud, you can't continue to blame yourself, you'll never be free. You'll always have this burden, dragging you down, drowning you, until you finally accept that what happened was simply an accident."

Her words didn't comfort me like they should have. It was much easier said than done.

* * *

><p>The remainder of the school year continued on without much incident. Tifa began dating Vincent, and rumors quickly began spreading about the 17-year-old with daddy's money suddenly dating a 22-year-old wanna-be rock star and bartender.<p>

The school year was over. The seniors had graduated, and Reno had a big party to celebrate it. Surprise, surprise.

I showed up alone, skirting around the fist-fight that was brewing in the lawn, and entering the party. A wall of sound, both from the country music crackling from the long-since blown out speakers and the incessant chatter from everyone at the party, assaulted me.

I moved to the kegs, avoiding everyone in the party. It wasn't hard, most of them carried on their conversations as if I wasn't even there. The ones that did notice me simply glanced at me, before turning away. It was official, I had returned to the point of social invisibility.

The kegs were in their usual place, chilling in trashcans full of ice. I grabbed a red Solo cup from the stack on the counter, already covered in spilled alcohol, and filled up.

"Cloud."

"Tifa," I responded without even turning around, recognizing her voice anywhere, pumping the keg a few times.

"Can you fill me up when you're done?"

"Don't you have a boyfriend who's a bartender?" I asked cynically.

"Oh, so now you're just like everyone else?"

I spun around, meeting her gaze, mentally bracing myself. She stared at me, fire burning within her eyes, I instantly knew, right then, that all of the tension that had bubbled up within us was about to erupt, in a violent way. I think she was worse off than I was. Tifa had no option but to bottle everything inside, the entire school had ostracized her, thanks to her dating of Vincent. She caught flak from every angle, from both her peers and the super-conservative minded townspeople. Her friendship with Aerith had eroded to nearly nothing after she had latched onto me. It was a tough year for her.

"Chill out, Tifa. It's a joke."

"Shut up, Cloud."

I blinked in surprise.

"I thought you were the one person who I could count to be on my side, to be in my corner, when everyone else is against me, but I was wrong," the words flowed like the tears began to. She had this bottled up for a long time. "Goddammit, Cloud, you are the shittiest friend I've ever had. You hide away in your little cocoon of pain and suffering and you don't care about anyone else! You never let anyone in!"

I couldn't meet her gaze anymore, tearing my eyes from her. I felt shame boil up within me. Shame and something else… something suspiciously like anger.

"You don't understand."

"Oh, I tried, Cloud. I tried damn hard to understand. But you wouldn't open up for me. I was there for you, I told you that I would support you through this time, but you told me to go away. That you didn't need me, that you didn't need anyone."

"Like you're any better!" I exploded, slamming my beer quickly and throwing the cup aside. "You jump from relationship to relationship like they're fucking goombas and you're fucking Super Mario."

… Okay, not the best metaphor, Cloud.

"You cling to guys because you need them," I continued, raising my voice a little. "Because even though you're daddy's princess, and you have all of his money, he doesn't have time for you, and for that, you need some guy to make you feel special and important."

Tifa puffed herself up, readying her next words that would strike with the force of a hurricane.

"At least I'm not fucking my dead best friend's girlfriend," she spat.

Oh no she didn't.

"Don't you dare say that to me."

"You are so obsessed with having this image of the brooding, tortured hero, who is constantly haunted by the death of his best friend. What part of that involves sleeping with your best friend's girl?"

Rage boiled under my skin. I didn't think about what my next words would be, and I definitely should have. I said something I wish I hadn't.

"You don't understand, you stupid cunt!" I roared. Tifa blinked in surprise, taken aback for a moment. Only for a moment, though, before she grabbed a beer off of the counter and threw it in my face. The liquid splashed all over me, as I closed my eyes to avoid it getting in.

She slapped me. And then attacked my other cheek. And again, my head snapping both directions as she attacked each cheek with reckless abandon. She was crying openly now,

"I can't believe I cared about you. You're an asshole, Cloud," she sobbed, tears running down her face as she stormed out of the party. I wiped my face clean, looking around at everyone in the party staring at me.

"What the hell are you all looking at?" I yelled, and people returned to their conversations. The back door was thrown open roughly as I marched through, blinking lukewarm Meteor Light out of my eyes.

Tifa was right, I was a colossal asshole. I let my temper boil over, to wrestle control away from me. I shouldn't have said that, I realized it about halfway to the cooler in Reno's backyard. The chairs that circled around the plastic box sat still in the night. No one was out here. I slumped into Zack's chair, opening the cooler.

It was empty.

Tossing my head back with an exhausted sigh, I stared up into the starry night sky.

I had to call her.

"Damn," a girlish voice came from behind me. The word was long and drawn out. "Shit was crazy in there. I didn't know if I should start chanting 'Jerry, Jerry'."

She was shorter, petite, Asian. A goofy smile was plastered on her face as she carried a half-drank 40 ounce bottle of malt liquor.

"You're Cloud Strife, ain't ya'?"

"Yeah… Who are you?"

"Yuffie Kisargi," she said, slumping down in the chair next to me, releasing a loud belch. "I'm a sophomore."

"I figured," I muttered, turning my gaze back to the grass. She blew a bubble, smacking her gum loudly. "Look, if you don't mind… I'd rather be alone."

"I do mind," she said, leaning forward. "Look, Spikes…"

"Don't call me that," I weakly protested. I don't think she heard me, since she continued on without pause.

"People say stupid shit all of the time. I mean, you did come off as an asshole, but she was too, y'know? I mean, everyone is entitled one or two blowups a month. Usually I just start crying and tell the guy that I'm pregnant, but calling her a cunt works too."

"Look, I know you're trying to help me, and I appreciate that, but I just want to be left alone right now."

She shrugged, popping her gum loudly again. She continued to sit there, silently for a few moments, shifting uncomfortably. I could feel that it was killing her to not talk. She popped her gum again.

"Want me to suck your cock?"

What?

"What?" I asked, flustered, snapping toward her. She blew a large bubble innocently, her face maintaining its neutrality.

"I give pretty good blowjobs," she said, like she was mentioning that she had good handwriting. "It might take your mind off of her."

"Uh, thanks, but no, I'm okay," I said, a small smile on my face. I couldn't help but smile. This girl was ridiculous! She shrugged, leaning back and drinking her 40.

"Suit yourself, Spikes."

* * *

><p>The air had gotten colder, I thought with a ghost of a smile, shoving my hands in my pockets and hunching my shoulders down. The button up flannel shirt I was wearing was poor protection against the cold, as I walked home from Reno's house. I didn't see any of the guys, I didn't want to, especially after the fight Tifa and I had. I'm sure they'd heard about it by now.<p>

A flicker of lights danced across the pavement, causing me to lift my head.

Flames licked the night sky, casting and dispelling shadows on the dilapidated and ramshackle houses on the street. My heart stopped when I realized which house was on fire.

No.

All thoughts of being cold forgotten, I took off down the road, sprinting toward the mess of fire trucks and police cars already on scene.

A throng of onlookers had already gathered just outside the emergency vehicles, like moths drawn to the fire. I shoved my way through the crowd, pushing my way to the front. A cop stopped me.

"Hold on, you can't get through here," he said, holding his arms out. Clearly he wasn't from Nibelheim.

"That's my house!" I yelled, shoving past him. My mind had shut down, only one thought was searing across it. "Mom!"

"Cloud, calm down," one of the Nibelheim policeman said, restraining me as I continued to scream. "She's fine! She's fine!"

She's… fine?

I went limp in the policeman's arms, letting him drag me over to a squad car. She was sitting in the back, the door closed, as her body was rocked with sobs.

"Mom!" I called, as she turned to me. The cop opened the door, as I crouched down, hugging Mom tightly. She cried into my shoulder, as I shut my eyes tightly, sighing in relief. We sat there for a few more minutes, sheer relief filling my soul at the fact that she was alright. "What happened?"

"It looks like she turned the stove on and forgot about it," he said, as Mom cried even harder into my shoulder. "She was wandering around the sidewalk when we arrived. The blaze was too strong; we couldn't save anything, Cloud… I'm sorry."

* * *

><p>The sun's first rays peeked over the horizon, as I sat on the edge of the fire truck, a blanket wrapped around my shoulders. The fire had been extinguished, but the blackened ruins of our house smoked lightly in the pale daylight. Mom slept beside me, her head on my shoulder.<p>

Everything I ever owned was gone.

I felt hollow. Deep down I knew that they were all material possessions, things that could easily be replaced, but that didn't soothe the pain. The only possessions I had were the clothes on my back.

I tossed the blanket off of me, getting to my feet and walking into the ruins of the house. A few insurance adjusters picked through the ashes, trying to figure out exactly how much money we would receive. I walked through what was once the kitchen, heading into the backyard.

Not even this was spared, I thought dully. The tree burned apart like the kindling that it was. The chain link fence had fallen to the ground, blackened and warped from the heat. The tire was twisted and melted like a M_o_bius Strip, and the footballs were all deflated and flattened.

I picked them up, the tough rubber charred and covered in soot. I tossed them aside, before noticing one.

It wasn't melted, or damaged in any way, from what I could tell. I grabbed it, my fingers falling across the well-worn laces. It was the football Zack gave me for my fourteenth birthday. Nike Buster Sword, the first pro model football I had ever gotten. It was too big for me then, but now it fits perfectly.

Unbidden tears fell from my eyes, washing the soot from the leather I held in my hands. Sniffling, I wiped my eyes.

"Cloud?"

"Tifa?"

Her name leapt out of my mouth as I spun around. It wasn't her though.

It was Mrs. Fair.

"Mrs. Fair?" I blinked in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"We heard about your house," she said, taking a step toward me. "I… I don't know what to say."

"It's fine," I lied, trying to smile but not quite summoning a full one. "It's just stuff, right?"

I couldn't even complete the lie, as the walls broke down. Sobs ripped from my throat, tears ran down my face as I cried, the shock of the last few months finally taking its toll.

Mrs. Fair put a hand on my shoulder.

"Cloud. It's alright," she said softly. "Come with me."

"Mrs. Fair, this is too much," I protested, as she opened the door, revealing a rather ramshackle apartment. Mom had already walked in, looking around excitedly.

"Cloud, please, you've always been like a son to us," she said, blinking away a tear, as Mr. Fair walked in, carrying a bag with each hand. "We can't leave you homeless. Of course, it'll be a bit of a commute now…"

We were inside an older apartment complex, over in the metropolis of Junon, about a half hour from Nibelheim. On one hand, this would allow me easy access to all of the best medical clinics for Mom. But on the other…

How was I supposed to go to school?

"The insurance money from Zack's car and… the accident," Mrs. Fair said, as if she was reading my mind. "We'd like you to have it."

"No," I shook my head. "Absolutely not. We have some money coming from the insurance on the house. I'll make do until then."

Mrs. Fair's lip trembled, before she enveloped me in a hug.

"If you need anything, anything at all Cloud, just call us."

I didn't call them. While the insurance adjusters dotted their I's and crossed their T's, I spent my time getting our new apartment set up with essential things. Groceries and clothing. The apartment was sparsely furnished, a low end television and a few couches that were so uncomfortable, it'd be better to sit on the ground. The beds weren't bad, but I definitely deep cleaned them as soon as the Fairs left.

The streets of Junon were incredibly busy. That was one of the first things I noticed, as I weaved through the crowd. My headphones were plugged in, as I streamed Internet radio into my phone. It was the final minutes of the first half of the Midgar Soldiers against the Junon Weapons, the dull roar of the crowd audible even over the audio stream.

I ripped the headphones from my ears, pulling the heavy door of the public library open, dipping inside. Absently spiking my hair up, I moved through the entryway over to the public computers, sitting down on a stool in front of an open one. Double clicking on the Internet browser, I turned the steaming off of my phone, and proceeding to type in the address for the Junon Tribune, the local newspaper.

It popped up after a moment of thinking, and I took a deep breath, searching the archives for a specific article. Well, it wasn't really an article, not really, more like a blurb.

The title was simple. Nibelheim falls to Modeoheim. There were a few sentences describing the actual game, followed by the box score and stat lines. It was exactly what I was looking for, however, so I printed it out. While I waited for the printer to warm up, my mind flickered to a certain website.

_You shouldn't do this,_ I kept telling myself as I punched in the URL for , the national source of all things high school football. I located my state, opening the link.

The article whirred out of the printer, so I grabbed it and a nearby Sharpie, writing a single phrase across in big, bold letters.

NEVER AGAIN.

My attention turned back to the computer screen, clicking on the Nibelheim Dragons link.

National ranking; not ranked. State ranking; not ranked. Division ranking; eighth out of ten.

Well, shit.

With the tragic death of Zack Fair, the team fell apart at the seams, barely limping into the playoffs, the article read. While Cloud Strife showed improvement with each of his starts, the improvement was marginal, and with the loss of nearly all of his weapons, including All State running back Rude Richardson, the Dragons may be in for a long, tough season.

Marginal improvement? I seethed, feeling anger bubble up inside of me.

A link on the side of the website drew my attention.

"What is this…?" I wondered aloud, clicking on the link. A huge picture dominated the left hand side of the article.

A picture of Sephiroth.

Wait a second.

What the hell?

Modeoheim Serpents. State ranking; first. Division ranking; first out of ten.

National ranking; second.

"Modeoheim's defense was damn near impenetrable last season on their way to their state title," I read, scratching my chin. "With the return of the Remnant triplets on defense, as well as the addition of recently transferred Safer Sephiroth under center, this team could take the nation by storm."

"Sephiroth…" I muttered, squinting at the screen. "What are you doing?"

I clicked on his player link.

Number seven in the nation. A phenomenal athlete who can play any position on the field. His arm strength and accuracy are incredible, but his decision making is a little questionable, but looks to improve as he gets some starts under his belt.

Colleges interested; Cosmo Canyon, Rocket Town Tech, Midgar, Junon State…

I stared, dumbfounded, for a good three minutes. My brain finally kicked in, and I found myself typing "Cloud Strife" into the search bar.

Curiosity killed the cat.

Strife, Cloud.  
>Senior.<br>Quarterback.  
>Nibelheim High School.<br>6 foot, 1 inch. 190 pounds.

Player ranking…?

Not ranked.


	11. Eleven

**XI**

"Cloud."

I managed to squeeze a grunt in between all of my panting, as I lay on my back in the center of the football field, staring up at the cloudless blue sky. A fifty pound weighted vest lie still in the heat a few inches away, sweat stains covering the nylon.

"How's your Mom doing?"

"Fine."

"Just fine?"

"Yeah, just fine," I said, exhaling loudly as I got to my feet. Break time was over. "I don't really want to talk about that right now, Aerith."

I slid into my vest, zipping it up, and got used, again, to the feeling of having heavy plates on the front of my chest and lower back. A quick glance over to my training partner told me he was ready. Reeve pulled the rubber band from his wrist, pulling it over his head and using it to hold his shoulder-length hair up and out of his eyes. He scratched the patchy beginnings of a beard as he nodded to me. Aerith, sitting on the ground reading a book, sighed as she closed it, getting to her feet and walking a few yards away.

"Ready?" Reeve asked me.

I nodded.

"Go!" I called, dropping to the ground. I pumped out twenty five pushups, grunting in exhaustion with the final one. Reeve hopped to his feet, unencumbered by any vest, as we sprinted ten yards, touched the line, and then sprinted back.

Next, twenty five knee jumps. I leapt as high as I could, drawing my knees into my chest, and then landed. And repeated, twenty four more times. Aerith lounged across the metal bench, reading her book, basking in the late afternoon sun.

"Next station," I panted, really feeling the weight of the vest. We sprinted ten yards, and then back. I grabbed the Buster Sword football, getting set in an athletic stance. Ten yard high steps, eyes downfield, ball up and ready. Once I hit the goal, the football was dropped, and Reeve and I ran another set of lines.

Blinking sweat from my eyes, I dropped into an athletic stance. Reeve stood in front of me.

"Ready?" He asked. I nodded and started running forward.

Reeve put his hands on my shoulders, pushing me backwards with every ounce of strength he had. My heart thumped wildly, arms pumping, legs churning, as I fought against him to gain ground. With a mighty roar, I put all that I had left in the tank into pushing through Reeve and forcing the receiver backward step by step, until he had stumbled back back ten yards.

I drank in the warm air, breath coming in ragged gasps as I brushed my sweat soaked hair back.

"Not too bad," Reeve said beside me, using the collar of his shirt to mop the sweat from his head. I unzipped the vest, dropped it on the turf, and collapsed back onto the ground, spread eagle, staring into the sky.

A water bottle, flying through the air like a missile, landed just outside my torso, bouncing and rolling up against my side. Sitting up, I grabbed the plastic bottle and promptly guzzled half of it, dumping the rest over my head and sighing in content at the cold water. Aerith walked over to where I sat, dropping down and sitting next to me, continuing to read her book.

"You hear where everyone's going to school?" Aerith asked me, her eyes not leaving the page.

"Not everyone. I know Rude got a full ride to Costa del Sol, and I know Rufus ain't going to school."

"Scarlet's going to Cosmo Canyon Community College," Reeve blurted out, letting his hair down. Aerith looked up at the normally quiet man. "She, uh, she's going to try to get her grades up and then, uh, go to C.C.U. next year."

"And why's that, I wonder?" Aerith smiled. Reeve blushed and turned his attention to tying his shoe.

"You didn't ask about Reno."

"Reno? College?" Aerith snorted. "Fat chance of that. He barely scraped through high school."

"Actually…" Reeve glanced at me, I quickly shook my head. Don't do it, Reeve.

"Actually, what?" Aerith blew a lock of hair out of her face, looking between us suspiciously. "What, Reeve?"

"He, uh…" Reeve scratched the back of his head. I closed my eyes. "He got into C.D.S.U.. I was tutoring him for a while. It sounded like he got his grades up enough to sneak in. His S.A.T. and A.C.T. scores were impressive. They gave him preferred walk-on status for the football team…"

"Reno," Aerith said simply. I nodded, feeling a sinking pit in my stomach. "Chain smoking, drug dealing, alcoholic Reno got into college, and I didn't."

Reeve was silent, once again taking interest in his shoelaces. I glanced off at the scoreboard, dark and silent in the summer afternoon.

"I'm going to go," she muttered, getting to her feet and brushing the rubber bits off of her. "Cloud, I'll… I'll call you later."

She strode off, heading toward the parking lot.

"Aerith!" I called, voice echoing off of the deserted bleachers.

She didn't turn around.

* * *

><p>The drive home was rather uneventful. By the time Reeve and I had finished our workout, which included running routes and passing and catching, the sun was beginning to go down. I flipped the visor down, blocking the trailing rays of the sun. The vest rattled around the bed of my '97 Toyota Tacoma, more so when I shifted to a higher gear as I cruised onto the freeway.<p>

Without looking, I adjusted the volume of the radio, driving with my knees for a moment as I slid on a pair of gas station aviators.

"_-unsel. I can't believe there are people in this town who believe John Kunsel is a better quarterback than Cloud Strife."_

"Jesus, do you guys ever go home?" I muttered, shooting a glance at the radio.

"_People expect results. And Strife was 1-2 in games last year, and he overthrew the final pass that lost the game in the playoffs. Yes, he was hit when he threw, but in this town, people think of that as an excuse. And the one thing Nibelheim doesn't accept are excuses. Especially when it comes to the Dragons. And last year felt like one big excuse."_

"_Even with the death of Zack Fair and Safer Sephiroth dropping out and then transferring?"_

"_Even with those, yes."_

"_Well, it's not like anyone is expecting a whole lot from this year's Dragons. All of the publications and major news sites have listed us as one of the bottom feeders in the division, no national or state ranking, and no one listed as a pre-season All-State, hell, even an All-Conference."_

"_Well, hopefully we can shake things up this year."_

"_Not very likely, Jimbo."_

My blinker was flicked on, as I checked over my shoulder, shifting into neutral and drifting across the lanes and up the exit ramp toward Junon.

* * *

><p>Aerith didn't call me.<p>

I didn't pay it any mind, at first, instead continuing to prepare my mind and body for the football season.

And school, too, I guess.

It was the final summer day before practice began, and so I took a break from my workouts and ended up at the edge of the river with none other than Yuffie Kisargi.

She lounged on a beach towel, big sunglasses on, iPod plugged into her ears. Her skimpy yellow bikini left little to the imagination, but I was immune to the charm. She had propositioned me a few times, but I had no plans to sleep with her. None at all.

Honest.

I finished my beer, tossing it over my shoulder and settling my hand back on my fishing pole. The silence was broken by Yuffie popping her gum loudly and the clicking of my reel.

The water was calm, and the sun beat down from the cloudless sky. I sat on a large rock, shirt off, mostly in the shade of an old tree that stood resolute on the shoreline.

"You're looking big, Spikes."

I glanced to my left, seeing Yuffie sitting up and looking at me.

"Really?"

"Shit yeah, bro," she said, dropping her headphones on her towel and wading out in the water. "You been listening to the radio and them 'good ol' boys' talk show?"

"Not really," I lied.

"Well, they kept saying how your scrawny, Spiky ass is going to get broke this year," she said, skipping a rock across the water. I glanced at her, eyebrow raised. She didn't get the message. "But now, look at you, you're a regular buff muffin."

"Well, I have been working pretty hard…" I said, feeling a tug on my fishing pole. I grabbed it, reeling it in quickly, as Yuffie skipped another rock over the water.

Instantly, the pressure alleviated, and I sighed.

"Yuffie…"

"Oh, grow up. It wasn't like you were gonna catch it anyway," she said, watching a speedboat with a huge wakeboard rack come cruising by, pausing in the middle of the river in front of us. A group of drunken guys, stood up on the edge, and I instantly recognized a few of them from the Kalm football team.

"Show us your tits!"

They roared with laughter, high fiving each other as Yuffie smiled sweetly, reaching back as if to untie her swimsuit.

She whipped her hands forward, two middle fingers raised in retort.

"Go fuck yourselves ya' fuckin' wankers!" she yelled, blowing a raspberry at the boat.

The guys instantly quieted down for a moment, before the group started laughing at the guy who yelled, who slumped back into his seat, sulking. The boat sped off, leaving a huge wake in its trail.

I sighed, bringing in my line. No fishing would be done today. The cooler next to me had three beers left on ice; I grabbed one and popped it open.

"Nice British accent," I said.

"The British are on a whole 'nother level of swearing," she said, leaving the water and sitting back down on her towel. "I feel like I need to respond at the height of my game whenever someone asks to see my boobs."

I shook my head, smiling, and took a gulp of my beer.

"Well, except you of course."

"No thanks, I'm good."

"The offer is always on the table, Spikes," she looked at me, her voice taking on a sultry tone. "One of these days, you're gonna give into the Asian Persuasion and give me some of that nice, meaty, homegrown Nibelheim sausage."

I spit my beer out over the water, coughing loudly as Yuffie laughed.

"You're so easy to make uncomfortable," she grinned as I wiped my chin. "How's your girl friend?"

"Aerith ain't my girlfriend," I responded. "And I haven't talked to her in a week or so."

"I said girl friend. Girl-space-friend. And I wasn't talking about her."

Tifa. Of course she had to ask me about Tifa. She witnessed the crumbling of our friendship firsthand, and every once in a while she would just bring it up out of the blue.

This was one of those once in a whiles.

And I knew exactly how to respond to that.

"Don't you dare clam up on me," Yuffie warned, pointing at me. Can she read minds? "You need to talk to me about this."

"Why?"

"Because it's not healthy to let it build up within you," she said, taking her sunglasses off. She was dead serious, staring me in the eye. "And I'm the only person that gives enough of a rat's ass to let you vent your feelings to me."

I sat silently, staring at the ground.

"You're a good friend," I said softly, still staring at the ground. "Those have been few and far between since the accident."

"Yeah, well, remember that when you're rich and famous and I'm homeless and blowing some dude for a Happy Meal."

"I'll be sure to toss you a rich, British guy who can teach you how to swear," I laughed.

"Cloud, you can tell me to shove my opinion up where the sun don't shine, but I think you should go talk to her."

Water lapped against the shore, as I put together my next response.

"Why?"

Good one, Cloud. Glad you thought that out.

"Well, first off, you still feel guilty about calling her a See-You-Next-Tuesday, even though she might have deserved it," Yuffie put her sunglasses on. "And numero dos-o, your mind instantly hopped to her once I said girlfriend."

"I thought you said girl-space-friend. And my mind jumped right to Aerith."

"That's what you keep telling yourself because that's what other people think."

Was she right? Was my thought about Aerith a conditioned response because of how much we hung out? Because of how I wanted to hide away the idea that I still have serious romantic feelings for Tifa?

"Shit…" I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "You have to be a mind reader."

"I just know you too well, Spikes."

* * *

><p>I pulled my truck into a parking spot in front of Seventh Heaven, the new tavern nestled between the hardware store and the drugstore on Main Street. The lone stoplight in town continued to blink yellow. Down the street was the Tasty Freeze, few cars parked around it. I got out of my truck, still wearing my board shorts and a cutoff t-shirt. Yuffie lounged in the passenger's seat, playing a game on her phone.<p>

"I'll be back," I said, closing the door. "Make sure no one takes my fishing pole."

"Yeah, hella people in Nibelheim are gonna want another fishing pole," she responded, not looking up.

The sign on the door read 'Minors Welcome until 9 p.m.'. I took a deep breath, before pulling open the heavy wooden door and stepping inside.

The bar was dark, and was sparsely decorated. Featureless wooden tables and chairs took up nearly the entire floor. The bar, which was installed when this place was the Wild Chocobo Tavern, was stained and chipped and added character. A large TV hung behind the bar, currently on with the news channel. An old, busted pinball machine sat next to an even older jukebox, country music leaking out of the speakers.

It was nearly empty, it was early afternoon on a Sunday after all, but an elderly couple was huddled at a small table near the door, and four middle aged men sat around a round table in the center of the room.

And she was there too.

Her back was to me, as she stacked beer bottles and cans into the standing fridge behind the bar.

I swallowed. Okay, Cloud, you can do this…

I walked past the group of men, and a flash of realization passed over all of their faces.

"Cloud Strife?" one of them asked, and I recognized the voice immediately. Shit, these guys were the dudes from the radio. Tifa stiffened when she heard my name.

"Cloud, can we talk to you for a moment?"

"Maybe later," I said, waving them off, approaching Tifa. She continued to stand with her back to me.

Another deep breath.

"Tifa."

She made no sign that she heard me, instead turning around and grabbing a bin from underneath the bar. She walked out into the dining area.

"Tifa," I repeated, following her as she cleaned off one of the empty messy tables. "Tifa, can I talk to you?"

"I'm at work right now, Cloud," she said sharply. "I can't talk to you."

"It'll take five minutes, tops."

"If you're not a customer, I can't talk."

An idea popped into my head.

"Alright then," I said, pulling a chair out from under the table she was cleaning, and sitting down heavily. Tifa blew a lock of hair out of her face, turning her gaze toward me.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm now a customer."

She stared at me for a moment, no emotion on her face. Then…

"I'll get someone to serve you, sir," she said, walking away.

"Tifa, wait," I stood up. "I'm sorry."

She paused in front of the bar.

"Look, I was a colossal asshole to you. And I know sorry isn't good enough to cut it, but I really, truly am," I said, taking a few steps toward her. "Look, I'm not here to try to win you back or anything, I just wanted to tell you that I was sorry, and that I hope we can be friends again. Because, goddammit, Tifa, you are too important a person in my life to lose."

We stood in silence, as the radio people and the elderly couple looked on.

Tifa sniffled once, breaking the silence.

"You were a douche bag," she said with a short laugh, turning around and wiping her eyes.

"Yeah," I muttered, scratching the back of my head. "I guess I was…"

We both started laughing, and I looked up into her eyes. She was smiling. For the first time in months, that radiant smile was directed at me.

I felt a pang in my heart.

"Cloud," she said, smile faltering. "It's just not that easy. I'm going to need time, we can't just pick up and start over, you know?"

"Yeah, yeah I know," I lied. Of course we totally could. "But I just wanted you to know, Tifa, that I'm here. Whenever you're ready."

"Thanks, Cloud," she smiled again. "This was… very mature, of you."

The back door opened, and Tifa's Dad walked in, arms full of boxes.

"Tifa, can you help me out here?" he asked. She turned to me.

"I… have to get back to work," she said, gesturing toward her Dad.

"Yeah, yeah, no problem. I'll get out of your hair," I said, turning and walking toward the door.

"Cloud."

"What's up?"

"I…" she paused, looking at the floor. "It was good to talk to you again."

"… You too."

I pushed the door open, taking a deep breath as I climbed into my truck. Yuffie was still on her phone.

"How'd it go?"

I didn't respond at first, starting my truck and backing out onto Main Street.

A car came screeching in next to me, causing me to pause and look out the window. Aerith's Mom, got out of the car. I manually rolled my window down.

"Hey, Mrs. Gainsborough," I greeted. "What's up?"

"Cloud! Is Aerith with you?"

A cold feeling gripped my stomach.

"No. I haven't seen her in a week or so. Why, what's wrong?"

"She just left without telling me where she was going. I was checking to see if Tifa knew," she said frantically.

"I think I know where she is," I said. "I'll get her home."

* * *

><p>I eased my truck to a stop outside of the graveyard. The sun had, for the most part, gone down, casting eerie shadows across the graveyard. I walked forward, grass crunching under my feet.<p>

Aerith sat in front of Zack's gravestone, phone to her ear, as she cried softly.

She pulled her phone down, hit the redial button, and put it back up to her ear. She snapped it shut after a few moments.

"You okay?" I asked softly.

Instead of responding, she simply opened her phone again, turned on speaker phone, and hit redial. The electronic beeping of keys being punched in filled the cold silence. A single ring echoed around the graveyard. My breath caught as I heard the voice.

"Hey, this is Zack! I'm either playing football or completely hammered, so leave me a message and I'll get back to you! Later!"

Beep.

She snapped her phone shut.

I hadn't heard Zack's voice since the night he died. To have that sprung up on me…

The snap of Aerith's phone closing jarred me out of my memories. She hit redial again.

"Stop," I said.

"Hey, this is Zack! I'm either playing football or completely hammered, so-"

"Aerith, stop!" my voice was forceful, taking the phone and closing it. Only then did she turn toward me. "Stop. Just… stop."

"You still think you're the only one who can grieve, Cloud?" her eyes blazed fury. "It's been almost a year since he died. This is the only way I can hear his voice anymore."

"This isn't grieving," I said, setting her phone on Zack's tombstone. "You're torturing yourself."

"So now you're forgetting about him, too?"

"How could you say that?"

"Look at you," she said vehemently. "Prancing around as the new QB1, forgetting about who was there before you. It doesn't even seem like you miss him anymore."

Has she lost her mind? What the hell was Aerith talking about? She had never spoken to anyone like this… with so much hate and anger. Especially to me. Did she want me to become like her? A bitter, depressed individual who lashed out at those closest to them?

And then I realized, that's exactly what I had become after Zack's death. What I did to Tifa.

"I'm not being dragged back into that cocoon of pain and loneliness again," I told her. "I did that once before, and it was the darkest, most trying time in my life. And I never want to do it again. Zack is, and always will be, my best friend. I will never forget him, just like I will never forget the fact that he died because of me. But I'm not going to let that rule my life. I am my own person, damn it."

Aerith was silent for a long time.

"I'm going away tomorrow," she finally spoke. "To live with my cousin in Midgar for a little bit. Haven't ever been to that city…"

She looked up at me.

"… Not sure when I'm coming back."

I swallowed, looking away. I knew what she meant. Aerith was never coming back to Nibelheim.

"Alright, well, take care of yourself," I said, looking aside. "Maybe I'll see you later."

"Maybe."

* * *

><p>Aerith was gone. No phone call, no stopping by and saying goodbye. Her phone revealed that it was disconnected. Poor girl, I guess starting over would probably be best for her.<p>

Practice started, and then a few weeks later, school reared its ugly head once more. Coach was much tamer this year, since the majority of his team had either graduated or left, he knew this would be a terrible season. All of the receivers had little to no experience, with Ricky and Steve having graduated, Sephiroth transferring to QB at Modeoheim. The only receiver coming back who had a touchdown last year was Reeve, and he only had one.

I was ready, however, and attacked the fall camp without hesitation. Yuffie was right. I was much stronger and faster than I was last year. Even better, I was thicker, which made me much more durable. I had a feeling I would be getting hit a lot this year. The competition between Kunsel and I was incredibly one sided. Kunsel was good, but the way he was torn apart last year left him with little confidence. He'd get his shot next year, as the coaching staff unanimously named me the starting quarterback.

Of course, not everything is sunshine and rainbows, the 30 minute commute to school sucked. But I could deal with that.

TIfa continued to date Vincent, however our friendship had definitely recovered. We began to hang out again, tentatively and infrequently at first, but it continued to grow. All of my friends had graduated and that left my circle of friends to the bare minimum. Elena was still here, but we rarely talked, and Reeve was quickly becoming the closest friend I had. Tifa had rejoined our circle as well.

Reno and Rude both went to school at C.D.S.U. and left around the same time. Rude got the full ride and revealed that the coaches said he would probably be tagged with a red shirt and sit out his freshman year. Reno was still unsure if he wanted to play football or just party his life away.

"It'll be a game time decision," he told me as he smoked a blunt, drank a beer and had a dip in all at the same time.

Rufus started working at the Shinra Oil Corporation full time, acting as a member of the administrative staff to start. At least his dad didn't make him Vice President right off the bat.

And Sephiroth. I was still trying to figure that one out. I know he has another year of eligibility left in high school athletics, since he dropped out before the cutoff date. His transfer to Modeoheim, however, was puzzling. It was no secret that he wanted to play quarterback, but his freak athleticism allowed him to exceed at any position on the field, specifically wide receiver. So, he transferred to Modeoheim to play quarterback, but why didn't he just come back to Nibelheim? Did he not think he could beat me in an open competition?

Before I knew it, it was the first Friday of the year, and I found myself sitting in front of my locker wondering where the hell the last two months went. Yuffie was wearing my away jersey today, as I tugged on the dominating black and red home jersey of the Nibelheim Dragons. I brushed off the '1' patch on the left collarbone.

QB wrist onto my left one, two red sweat bands onto my right wrist, two swipes of eye black under my eyes. I grabbed my helmet. I was ready for war.

Time flowed strangely for me, I don't remember the talk we had before the game in the locker room, I all of a sudden was in the tunnel, waiting for my name to be called. Since this was the first game of the season, they would introduce each of the starters individually.

I hopped on the balls of my feet, helmet on but unstrapped, as I waited. Like all quarterbacks, I would be announced last, to get the full respect from the crowd.

I knew I should be nervous, hell, I hadn't played a real game of football since losing against Modeoheim. But I wasn't. I was calm, ready for battle. Alone in the tunnel, waiting for my turn, I felt more at peace than I had in the longest time. I grabbed the collar of my pads, stretching my neck.

The announcer's voice boomed over the field. Go time. I took a deep breath, held it, and jogged out of the tunnel.

"_Starting at quarterback, the six foot, one inch, two hundred pound senior, Cloud Strife!"_

* * *

><p><strong>AN (3/28/12): Hello my friends. It has been awhile. In my defense, my computer has been broken for about three weeks, and finally got a new one and pounded this out quickly. This chapter actually did not exist in the original outline, but jumping from middle of summer to the three games into Cloud's senior season left a few unanswered questions, so apologies if this chapter is all over the place.**

**I'm a bit torn. As you may know, overwhelming positive response to this story has made me begin to adapt this as a completely original, edited novel. I'm unsure if I should continue this version of the story as a preview, editing the chapters along the way, or just jump right into making it the original story, and leave these chapters up as a preview. Any input in PMs or Reviews would be fantastic.**

**Also, be sure to check out my author bio page (or whatever it's called) for my blog! FAQs / hate mail / updates will be posted up there whenever I feel like it!**

**Enjoy Chapter 11!**

**~R0g3r **


	12. Twelve

**XII**

"_-incredible. No one could have expected this, not in a million years!" _

"_To see not one, not two, but three, __three__, incredible, record breaking performances from Cloud Strife."_

"_While most of the experts picked the Dragons to start out 0-3, Strife shocked the world by leading Nibelheim to three consecutive victories!"_

"_He looks good, Bob-o. Strife has definitely bulked up, and, unless my eyes are mistaken, he has even gotten faster! Not to mention he's been making great decisions with the ball! Eight touchdowns to no interceptions, plus two rushing touchdowns, in three games?"_

"_Which is exactly what he has to do this year, since the only receiver with more than one game of varsity experience is Reeve Tuesti. Hell, Jimbo, I didn't think that Nibelheim would have won a single of those games, even if Strife had improved from last year. But he is playing out of his mind, at a whole 'nother level. I can't wait to see what he does against Modeoheim this Friday for the homecoming game."_

I was feeling good.

You had to slam the door of the apartment closed twice, once to jar the mechanism, and the other to completely close it. Then, insert the key, twist, and voila, the door is locked. I slung my backpack over my back, heading down the dingy and dark hallway, whistling a tune as I did so.

The elevator at the end of the hall was open and inviting, and I stepped in, hitting the button for the garage.

"Could you hold the door, please?"

I slid my hand into the narrowing crack, and the doors sprang back open. A girl roughly my age power walked into the elevator.

"Thanks," she said breathlessly, adjusting her backpack. "Going down?"

"Yeah," I responded, sneaking a glance at her while the door closed. She was pretty, in a natural way. She had almost no makeup caked on her face, and her red hair ran down to her shoulders. A ping echoed about the metal box as the doors ground open. She smiled at me.

"Well... see you later," she said, heading off into the garage. I opened my mouth to respond, but she was already gone. I shrugged, heading in the opposite direction toward my truck.

* * *

><p>I swung my truck into my parking spot, hopping out of the car and grabbing my backpack out of the bed. I cast an uneasy glance over at the parking spot to the left of mine. A large one was spray painted in the rectangle. Zack's old spot.<p>

Slinging the backpack over my shoulder, I walked toward the building. A large banner, handmade by the leadership class, hung above the door. Don't forget to buy your homecoming tickets!

There were more students out in the parking lot than usual today, and all of them were staring at me, following me with their eyes. I tried to pay it no mind, but it was uncomfortable. I hurried up the stairs into the building, seeking out my locker quickly.

The numerous love notes and good luck messages covering my locker made it difficult to find the dial, so I pulled a few away, opened my locker, and stuffed them into the already overflowing box.

"Hey, Cloud."

I turned, glancing down at the short kid in front of me. His bushy brown hair made him seem a few inches taller than he actually was.

"Denzel. Tifa's brother," he said, giving me a head nod.

"Oh, right. What's up?"

"Nothin'," he said, lounging against the locker next to mine. "Ninth grade sucks, you know?"

"Can't say I do."

He nodded, waiting for me to go on. My eyes roved over the hallway, looking for an escape route. I never spoke to this kid before in my life, and now he was going on like we were best buds.

A group of freshman girls, Denzel's age, came up to me, giggling.

"Could you sign this?" she asked, holding out a piece of notebook paper. I raised an eyebrow. Denzel adjusted his hair quickly and gave her a small smile.

"Uhh, sure," I took the piece of paper, scrawling something that resembled my name in a passing glance, and handed it back to her. She left, without even glancing at Denzel. The little guy looked down. Instantly, I saw a bit of myself in the kid. And I don't think he has a Zack to help him out.

"It sucks being invisible, doesn't it?" I asked him as we watched the girls move down the hall.

"They're just giving me a hard time because I'm the new kid," Denzel said, almost confidently. His voice cracked once at the end, giving away his ruse.

The bell rang, and the hall became alive with activity.

"Look, Denzel," I sighed. "I gotta go. But I'll talk to you soon."

"Right. Okay," he said, staring down at the scuffed linoleum.

"Hey," I put my hand on his shoulder. "I mean it."

The kid actually smiled.

"Thanks, Cloud."

* * *

><p>"Check it out," Reeve said, depositing the Nibelheim Daily newspaper on the table before taking a seat. Tifa snagged the paper before I could, flipping it to the front cover. Her brow furrowed.<p>

"Oh, wow."

"Let me see."

"Cloud, I don't think you want to-"

I snatched the paper away, fluffing it and staring at the photo on the front page.

It was a picture of Zack and me. And under it, in large, bold letters, were the words: Spiritual Successor.

"'Our own Cloud Strife has finally emerged from under the large shadow cast by his best friend, the late Zack Fair'," I read aloud. Tifa rolled her eyes and Reeve shrugged. "'Strife has stood on his own through three games, breaking several records of Fair's…' who writes this shit?"

"Don't know, man, someone trying to sell copies?"

My eyes skimmed the page, falling across the final sentence. I blinked, reading it again.

"'Things are looking up, especially'…" I opened the paper, going to page A5. "'Since Strife has cracked the ESPN's top… 100… players…"

My mind instantly went numb, as I looked up, glancing from Tifa to Reeve as we sat in silence for a moment. We all leapt out of our chairs in sync, as if our minds were linked, quickly darting out of the room before the echo of the metal feet on linoleum faded.

Reeve threw the door to the library open with so much force, I was surprised he didn't rip it off its hinges. We huddled around a computer, quickly double clicking the Internet Explorer button. I pounded in the address, swatting Reeve's hand away when he tried to help type.

"Click there!" Tifa said, pointing at the screen. I complied.

"Shit! We have to be a subscriber!"

"Here, use this card," Tifa handed me a credit card. I punched in the numbers, and submitted the information.

And waited.

Tifa clasped her hands tightly together, as Reeve drummed his fingers on the desk. I stared at the computer screen, waiting for the link to resolve.

My heart thudded in my chest.

The page finally loaded, revealing the top three high school prospects.

1. Sephiroth, Safer - QB / Ath - Modeoheim High School

6'5" - 250 lbs  
>Pros: Phenomenal arm strength, incredibly gifted athletically, can play any position on the field.<br>Cons: Lack of QB experience.

2. Remnant, Loz - LB - Modeoheim High School

6'3" - 240 lbs  
>Pros: Everything you look for in a linebacker; strong, fast, tough and smart.<br>Cons: Lack of discipline, off-field issues a concern.

3. Wallace, Barret - OL - North Corel High School

6'5" - 300 lbs  
>Pros: Smart, strong, fast, dedicated. His side of the line gave up one sack last year.<br>Cons: Injury concerns; torn ACL in right knee cost Wallace his sophomore season.

"Not top three," I muttered, not surprised.

"Scroll down," Tifa commanded, as Reeve hit Ctrl+F and typed in 'Strife'.

Instantly the page hopped to, and highlighted, my name.

82. Strife, Cloud - QB - Nibelheim High School

6'1" - 200 lbs  
>Pros: Smart decision maker, can read defenses on the fly, very accurate with the football, great runner.<br>Cons: Arm strength leaves something to be desired, has yet to prove he's consistent enough to excel at the next level, leadership skills questionable.

"What the hell does that mean?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Only eighty-two?" Tifa scoffed. "That's bullshit."

"Do you know how many thousands of kids play high school football?" Reeve asked her. "Tifa, to even be on this list, it's a huge accomplishment."

* * *

><p>Reeve was right. Over the next few days, whenever I made it back to my apartment, my phone was either ringing off the hook or I had several messages from big name coaches wanting to talk to me. Cid Highwind's card was still pinned above my desk. I took it down, spinning it in my fingers.<p>

He sought me out before anyone else had heard of me. Was he lucky, or did he just have a good eye for talent?

My phone rang loudly.

"What university are you calling from?" I wearily asked as soon as I had picked it up.

"No university," the voice came on the other line. "Sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Strife, but this is Dr. Bugenhagen from the hospital."

"Oh, sorry Doctor, I've just been getting a little overwhelmed lately."

"Not a problem, I remember when I was getting ready to go to college…" he trailed off wistfully before clearing his throat. "Anyway, I have received your mother's blood work back from the lab."

I perked up. The insurance company had blood drawn from Mom the night of the accident, and shipped off for lab work. It bounced around to several labs and doctors, due to her unique condition.

"Is there a problem?"

"No, not at all. Your mother's blood shows that she had taken all of her medicine and was perfectly fine."

I blinked, feeling a sinking pit open up in the bottom of my stomach.

"What did you just say?"

"I said she was fine. On that night, she had taken all of her medicine and was perfectly healthy. Is… there a problem, Mr. Strife?"

I dumbly shook my head, until realizing I was on the phone.

"No. Not at all. Thank you, doctor."

Hanging up the phone was hard with my trembling hand. I stared out the open door toward the living room, where Mom was watching TV.

She was completely medicated that night. So why did she pretend not to be?

Part of me screamed to go ask her, to confront her with the truth and see what had to happen. That was the side that would've won out immediately after Zack's death. But, I decided to do this tactfully. If Mom lied about being medicated, there had to be a good reason.

… There had to be a good reason, right?

* * *

><p>"Gentlemen, I want a nice clean game. Modeoheim, you are the visitor, what is your call?"<p>

"Heads."

The coin flashed through the night air.

"It is tails. Nibelheim?"

"We want the ball," I stated, matching Sephiroth's cold stare. "We're going to score."

Loz laughed, and Sephiroth's mouth twisted into a cruel smile.

"Well… alright, then," the referee said. "Shake hands, and good luck, boys."

We played nice, but Sephiroth and I squeezed each other's hand so tightly, I felt popping. Both in his hand and mine.

"Hey, Reeve," Sephiroth called, still staring me in the eyes. "I fucked her first."

"Yeah," chimed in Kadaj. "How does it feel getting his sloppy seconds?"

Sephiroth smirked as Kadaj and Loz laughed and high fived.

Reeve shoved Sephiroth back forcefully, sending the tall quarterback staggering back and wiping the grin off of his face. Holy shit. That was the least thing I would've expected, and if Reeve wasn't about to get his ass stomped, I would have laughed. I stepped between Reeve and Loz, who lunged forward, fending off the larger linebacker. Reeve stood there, a fire smoldering in his eyes.

The whistles of the referees pierced the raucous noise from the crowd, who sensed blood in the water. The refs hollered at us to get back to our sides, and we did, backing slowly away from each other.

Every player on the team waited in a group, and the four of us captains walked right into it. I pulled my helmet off, putting my fist up with the rest of them.

"One, two, three!" I chanted loudly.

"Fight!"

"One, two, three!"

"Kill!"

"One, two, three!"

"Win!'

"What?"

"Win!"

"What?"

"Win!" we all yelled, clapping.

Reeve hopped along the sideline, dark visor hiding his eyes, half-sleeve Under Armor covering his forearms. He looked completely different than the nerdy, shy kid he was last year. He looked downright intimidating. I glanced at Coach, who had brightened up considerably once I started playing well and we started winning. He basically let me do my own thing out there.

"Here's how it is, Strife," he said. "You know firsthand; these guys are downright juggernauts on defense. You're going to have to do whatever you can to get the ball in the end zone. I have a feeling this is gonna be an good ol' fashioned shoot out."

"Yes, sir," I responded, buckling my helmet as the Modeoheim kicker sent the ball out of the back of our end zone for a touchback. Walking out to the field, I clenched my throwing hand into a fist, blowing into it, and then wiping it off on my towel, as Kunsel relayed the signs from the sidelines.

Leaning into the huddle, I consulted my QB wrist.

"Red forty-four," I said calmly. "Power-I, play action outs. On one, ready?"

"Break!"

Reeve jogged over to our sideline, checking in with the ref to see if he was on the line. Kadaj met him, unheard words being exchanged between the two.

"Hey, Strife!" Loz called from across the line, drawing both of his hands across his throat forcefully. "Your ass is grass!"

I gave a fleeting look at the referee next to me, bringing my hand up to shield my mouth… and the middle finger I raised toward Loz.

"Red forty-four!" I shouted. "Red forty-four! Down, set, hut!"

The ball was hiked back to me, as the defense and offense exploded together in a ferocious moment. Reeve promptly shoved Kadaj, and then blew past him, running up the field. I pretended to hand the ball off to the running back, who ran ahead, drawing a few defenders, before spinning my head and finding Reeve, who was still running downfield.

I threw the ball toward the sideline, just as he cut his route off. The ball met him in stride, and Reeve planted, trying to turn up field, but was taken out by Yazoo diving in with a shoe-string tackle.

The next play saw the running back explode forward, try to find a hole, but was promptly thrown to the ground by Loz.

And that was the beginning of the wheels falling off.

The next play was a long pass over the middle, but was called back by one of the young linemen getting tagged with a holding penalty. And then one of the young receivers dropped a pass. And then, due to excessive pressure, I was forced to scramble away from a few defenders and throw the ball safely out of bounds.

"Shit," I clapped my hands together, walking over to the sideline.

Then, I watched Sephiroth run a clinic on our defense. He destroyed them, firing incredibly accurate passes in between the zones and defenders. He moved down the field quickly and efficiently, no incomplete passes. Each pass going for ten yards or more. He never even handed the ball off, and only ran the ball when he was in the red zone, powering ahead and trucking over a linebacker who was foolish enough to get in his way, high stepping into the end zone.

I blinked.

That was an incredible touchdown drive.

"_And that's a touchdown for the Serpents."_

"_The opening possessions for both teams has told us this, the Dragons are overmatched on both sides of the ball. Sephiroth had his way with our defense and the offense can't get anything going."_

The rest of the first half continued in that manner. Our line was man-handled by Modeoheim, and I was thrown to the ground numerous times. I had no time to do anything; we couldn't even run the ball to buy me some more time, since Loz was just waiting to gobble up the running back. Then, Sephiroth would get the ball back, and seemingly expend no effort scoring on us again and again. Coach would yell at his defensive coordinator, who frantically flipped through his playbook.

And so, I found myself running for my life once more as Modeoheim defenders dove through the line, their hands grasping at me.

"Reeve!" I yelled. "Cut it off!"

He complied, stopping in a hurry and exploding to the left, over the middle of the field. I felt a presence behind me, so I threw the ball across my body. Bear in mind, this is an incredibly difficult and incredibly stupid move. All of my momentum and weight is traveling in one direction, and I have to fling the ball back in the opposite direction, using little more than my arm strength.

The ball left my hand as soon as a strong pair of forearms connected with the small of my back, sending me ass over teakettle across the turf. Yazoo leaned in and swatted the ball aside before Reeve could secure it, causing the ball to bounce incomplete on the artificial grass.

Wearily pushing myself off the grass, I wiped the blood leaking from several cuts on my hands and forearms off on the towel, leaving a streak of crimson. My entire body ached, I had never been pushed around this much before. Modeoheim was blitzing willy nilly, knowing we had never played against a team of their caliber.

The scoreboard behind our end zone told the tale. Three seconds left before halftime. 21-0, Modeoheim. Hanging underneath the scoreboard was the newest addition to the field, a large, black, number one. The name Fair stenciled up the side in Nibelheim red. The first number this high school ever retired, and with good reason.

"Knee," I simply said to my teammates, walking up toward the line. I crouched behind the center, taking the football as it was handed back to me dropping to a knee. Modeoheim jogged off the field to a chorus of boos as I flipped the football to the nearby referee, sliding my helmet off of my head. A cool breeze attacked the sweat coating my face and hair, chilling it instantly. Moving to leave the field, I was stopped by the ASB president, who pushed me back out into midfield. The lights in the stadium went out, causing a loud cheer to come from the students.

"What are you doing?"

"You need to be out here, trust me," he said, pushing me in position. Another football player, a sophomore, stood awkwardly beside me.

"We in trouble or something?" he whispered. I ignored him. A junior and freshman made their way out onto the field from the stands, lining up in order of age, with me on the far left.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the booming voice of the P.A. announcer came from everywhere. "Please welcome your 2007 Homecoming Court!"

"Oh, fuck me," I breathed as the crowd roared with approval.

"Starting with the freshman Jester and Magician," the voice continued. "Give it up for Mickey Castle and Janet Ereton!"

A young blonde girl came from her position on the track. A spotlight from the press box fell across the freshmen. They received their hats from the ASB president, beaming and waving.

"Sophomore Prince and Princess; Daniel Whitstone and Emma Marks!"

Two couples were now illuminated. The young player beamed, as his friends chanted provocative things from the stands. The ASB president and vice president continued down the line, pausing in front of the well-dressed junior and his cheerleader partner.

"Junior Duke and Duchess… Peter Roberts and Katherine Reed!"

A girl stepped right next to me, her features mostly hidden in the darkness.

"Cloud?" she whispered, confused.

"Tifa?"

"And, finally, your homecoming King and Queen…"

"I thought you were going with Vincent?"

"He's not a student here, and you're taking that junior girl, Yuffie, right?"

"Only seniors can be King and Queen…" I realized. Oh shit, this was about to get awkward.

"Cloud Strife and Tifa Lockheart!"

The spotlight came on, blinding me momentarily, as the president and vice president slid our overly decorated, but still cheap, plastic crowns on our heads. The student section was silent for a moment; after all, most of them were present for our fight at Reno's house last year.

"Yeeeeeaaaaah!" someone shouted from the stands, before the loudest cheers of halftime rained down upon us. Tifa put on a smile and waved, as I glumly raised my helmet. This was going to be weird. Tifa and I hadn't done anything exactly intimate since we broke up, and now we had to have a few dances and show off for pictures and stuff?

This was going to be an interesting homecoming.

* * *

><p>It happened part way into the third quarter. We were still losing, 35-3, but we had put together several drives deep into Modeoheim territory. However, a single field goal was all we had to show for it, thanks to more penalties and one of our young receivers having the football stripped away from them in the end zone.<p>

"Eagle!" I called at the line. It wasn't hard for the offense to hear. The crowd was nearly silent, deflated by the beating Modeoheim had put on us. "Eagle! White twenty three! White twenty three! Set, hut, hut!"

As soon as I caught the ball, my eyes roved downfield. I went through my progressions, staying poised in the pocket as my line blocked the defenders away from me, creating a safe haven of about three feet.

Shit.

No one was open.

I went through all of my receivers again, as they scrambled around the field trying to get open. Nothing. The Modeoheim secondary was on them tighter than white on rice on a paper plate in a snowstorm.

A break in the line had me backpedal, toward the left sideline, as one of my receivers broke off their route and got behind the safeties, waving his hand frantically for the ball.

Planting my feet momentarily, I stepped forward, bringing my arm through and swiveling my hips as I prepared to throw the ball deep.

Something very solid and very heavy connected with my torso, causing a grunt of pain to erupt from between my clenched teeth.

The ball barely cleared the line of scrimmage, as I was driven forcefully to the ground.

"Ha ha!" Loz yelled triumphantly. "I told you I'd get you, mother fucker!"

He discretely slapped me on the helmet, getting to his feet and alleviating the pressure off of me. I rolled onto my stomach, slowly getting onto my knees. My face screwed together in a grimace of pain. Loz had rammed his helmet right where my shoulder pads met my flak jacket, where the protection was the weakest.

Now, the right side of my torso ached, breathing caused a dull pain to throb up my side.

"_Strife is slow to get up."_

"_Kid has been beat on all day, it was stupid for him to be out there when they're down by this many, we might just see our star player hurt."_

I took another deep breath, wincing in pain, as I finally lifted my head.

Kunsel was jogging out onto the field, helmet on. I frantically waved him back.

"No!" he looked surprised. "Get out of here! I got this!"

Kunsel blinked, looked between me and Coach, before finally heading back to the sideline. I hauled myself to my feet, gingerly walking over to the huddle.

"Cloud, you alright?"

"Fine," I said harshly, before grabbing the right guard, a junior, by his facemask, pulling it in close. "Fucking. Block."

He nodded dumbly.

"Reeve, go long. The rest of you…" I rubbed my throbbing side. "Do whatever you want. Ready?"

"Break!"

* * *

><p>We ended up losing the game. That play led to a touchdown to Reeve, who managed to fight off Kadaj at the line and run past Yazoo, but we still were manhandled from the beginning to the end. Overmatched and outplayed in nearly every aspect of the game.<p>

I took a final slug of whiskey from the bottle, sliding out of the limo with a groan. The painkillers Yuffie had hooked me up with weren't really working. I was in constant pain, even the buzz I had going from the alcohol didn't detract from it. Reeve offered a hand to help me out.

"I'm fine!" I snapped. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and responded calmer. "I'm alright, Reeve."

"Yeah," Yuffie said, shoving Reeve away. "He's fine!"

Reeve shook his head, taking Scarlet's hand as the two of them followed the rest of the football players in our group up into the restaurant. Yuffie looked at me, her short, forest green dress matching my tie.

"Let's go, Spikes," she said, looping her arm in mine, dragging me up the stairs into the restaurant. It was a little more casual than the one we went to last year, which was fine by me. No snooty waiters barking at us for being intoxicated or Reno for knocking his food all over the carpet.

Tifa sat near the door, looking a little out of place with the variety of Vincent lookalikes who were sitting around her. She gave me a little half smile and wave, which I returned, before gingerly lowering myself into a seat at our long table.

Dinner began uneventfully. Reeve sat across from me, catching up with Scarlet about how her first quarter of community college went. Yuffie chatted the ear off of one of our receivers, her hand on his thigh the entire time and ignoring the death glares from his original date.

I sat silently, brooding.

And then a group of people walked in front of the window.

"You have got to be kidding me," I muttered, causing Reeve to turn as they paused, quickly conferred, and entered the restaurant.

The Remnant triplets and none other than Safer Sephiroth himself.

"What are they doing here?" Reeve asked me. I shrugged.

"I knew Cloud wasn't man enough for you," Sephiroth said loudly, walking toward Tifa. "But I had no idea that would make you switch teams, Lockheart…"

He looked at Vincent, coolly analyzing him.

"Oh, you're a guy. Sorry, bro," Sephiroth continued, his cold, grating voice betraying no emotion. Kadaj and Yazoo laughed.

"What do you want, Sephiroth?" Tifa asked forcefully.

"Well, we saw you through the window," Sephiroth gestured. "And you looked super bored, and since you're an old friend of mine, we wanted to see if you wanted to ditch the Dead Poets Society and come hang out with us tonight?"

Sephiroth's eyes flickered to Vincent, who looked more like a vampire than usual in his black and red tux.

"You don't have a problem with that, do you, man?"

The two stared each other down, Vincent's single visible eye matching Sephiroth's icy cold ones. But it was Vincent who finally yielded, staring down at his food as Sephiroth clapped him on the shoulder. Tifa stared at her boyfriend incredulously.

"Fuck this," I muttered, getting to my feet. Reeve jumped up as well, standing behind me as I moved toward the silver haired guys.

"Hey, Sephiroth," I said, causing the taller man to turn, and stare at me. "Why don't you just leave her alone, man?"

The Remnant brothers looked uneasily at the growing attention this spectacle was getting. A flash of recognition crossed Sephiroth's face.

"Cloud," he greeted, a small smile forming on his face as he approached me. "My good friend, Cloud. How are you?"

He wrapped his arms around me, bringing me in for a hug. He squeezed me tightly, causing a sharp intake of breath as he applied pressure to my injured side.

"I've been better," I admitted, as Sephiroth released me. He looked me up and down.

"You're looking pretty buff, Cloud," he slapped me on both sides, smiling as I closed my eyes in response to the shooting pain up my side.

"What are you doing here, Sephiroth?"

His cool smile never left his face.

"We were just leaving," he said, gesturing to his cousins. "Good to see you… Cloud."

He gave me what must've seemed to the onlookers as a playful punch in the ribs, but my injured side exploded in pain. Frantically, I grabbed the top of a nearby chair; squeezing it tightly as I barely contained a yelp of pain. Sephiroth and the Remnants left the restaurant, and I released a long sigh.

Tifa gave me a look of concern, but didn't say anything. I brushed off Reeve's attempt to help me, and hobbled back to my seat. Yuffie discretely passed me a few more painkillers. I swallowed them dry.

* * *

><p>The bit of alcohol I had drunk mixed with the painkillers had me a little loopy when it came to the dance. I wasn't blacked out, but I might as well have been. I mostly sat on the side, wearing the cheap crown again, as Yuffie went around, grinding on everybody she could, male or female.<p>

The ASB president, a perky, friendly, goody-two-shoes 4.0 student came up to me.

"Alright, Cloud, after this song we're going to do the King and Queen dance," he said, before pausing slightly. "Please, just be sober enough to get through one dance."

"Whatever."

The answer must've been good enough for him, as he nodded and moved on. I continued to stare out over the dance floor as the music wound down, and a bright spotlight shined in the middle of the dance floor.

"Could the Homecoming King and Queen make their way to the dance floor for their annual dance," the DJ said over the microphone.

I didn't move.

The center of the dance floor remained empty.

"King and Queen to the dance floor, please."

I saw Tifa moving through the crowd.

Well, I guess it's go time.

Pushing out of my chair, I made my way through the crowd of onlookers who surrounded the dance floor. Tifa was waiting for me in the center of the spotlight. She gave me a small smile as I approached.

I was instantly struck with a bit of déjà vu, flashing back to this moment last year. Except, now, we weren't drunk, and we weren't courting each other. Now, one failed relationship later, she had moved on.

And I hadn't.

The thought rushed suddenly into my brain, and suddenly, a few butterflies sprang up in my stomach.

"Your crown's crooked," she said softly, adjusting it for me as I stepped in next to her.

"Thanks," I muttered, taking her right hand in my left, and sliding my right one down on her hip. The song started, as we slowly started dancing.

"You've gotten better," she said, an eyebrow raised in approval.

"You think so?"

She nodded, lowering her head to watch our feet. We danced in silence for a few moments. She was so close.

"Thank you for standing up for me at the restaurant," she whispered.

"No prob."

"What was Sephiroth doing to you?" she asked, removing her hand from my shoulder and putting it on my right side.

"Tifa…" I managed to get out between a sharp intake of breath. She looked up at me, eyes full of concern.

"Cloud…"

"Tifa, I'm fine."

"You're not fine."

"It's nothing," I whispered. "Just a cracked rib. Or two. I think."

"Just a cracked rib? Cloud, you need to go to the hospital."

"No!" I whispered fiercely. "If I go to the hospital, they say I can't play. If I can't play, we don't win."

"You're being stupid. You can get seriously hurt out there. Cloud, I'm serious."

"So am I," I looked away, staring at the DJ booth. "I'll be alright."

The rest of the students joined us on the dance floor, although we remained in the center. I saw Reeve and Scarlet kissed tenderly. Something clicked, and it might have been the painkillers, but all of a sudden, I just started talking.

"I miss you."

What are you doing, Cloud?

"What?" she asked me, eyes narrowing.

"Look, I know you said you needed some time, but it's been a couple of months, and I just want to go back to where we were."

"Like… boyfriend and girlfriend again?"

No!

"Well… yeah."

"Cloud… I…" Tifa looked around, before stepping away from me. "I can't do this right now."

She strode off through the crowd, leaving me standing by myself in the center of the dance floor. Disappointment and embarrassment settled in, as I stared at the ground, before promptly heading out of the crowd in the opposite direction.

The dance wasn't at the high school, it was over at some country club between Nibelheim and Junon. After wandering about for a bit, I found myself out on the balcony, staring at the stars. The railing was cold, and a chilly wind made me glad I was still wearing my tuxedo jacket. I took the crown off, tossing the cheap piece of plastic over the edge. The plastic bounced once on the parking lot, sending a few bits and pieces scattering around the pavement.

I sighed, massaging my side.

"Hey."

Tifa stood to the side of the balcony, initially hidden in shadow.

"Hey…" I responded, glancing back at the door. "I didn't see you there. Look, I can leave…"

"No," she said simply, coming to stand next to me at the railing. She shivered in the night air. I took my jacket off, wincing as my ribs throbbed again, and handed it to her. "Thanks…"

"Tifa. I'm sorry," I said, staring out into the night air. "I don't know what I was thinking in there. Yuffie gave me these pain pills… and I feel like I'm drunk but I'm not… and my palms are all sweaty…"

"Cloud, it's alright," Tifa said with a short laugh, pulling the jacket closer around her.

We stood in silence for a few moments.

"Where's Vincent?"

"He would rather go to some show than hang out with a bunch of 'dumb high school jocks'."

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright," she said, grabbing hold of the railing and leaning back. "It's not like we were dating or anything."

What?

"Wait… what?"

"I thought I told you this," she said, staring at me. "Like, two weeks ago. He thought I was just showing him around. Getting him acquainted."

"Acquainted means high school parties?"

"I guess to him it did," she said softly. "Now it makes sense why he would never kiss me."

A short burst of laughter ripped from my mouth. Tifa laughed too.

"Man, look at me," she shook her head. "You were right about me. I do just jump from relationship to relationship…"

"Tifa, I didn't mean that."

"Yeah, you did, and you were right, Cloud…" she stared off into the night. "Do you have any idea how much it sucks to be the daughter of one of the richest guys in the city? We moved to Junon when I was in high school, did you know how I was expected to act all the time, how people would only want to be friends with me because of my Dad's bank account?"

I was silent.

"You were the first true friend I ever had," she said softly. "You think it's a coincidence I don't talk to anyone from Junon anymore?"

"… I didn't know."

"That's why it hurt so much when you turned your back on me," she wiped away tears forming in her eyes. "That's why we can't try this again, Cloud. I'm sorry, but we can't. I can't lose you again."

I remained silent.

"Say something."

"I disagree."

"What?"

"What's the difference between dating and just being friends?" I asked her. "Nothing much besides a different word and that we kiss and shit."

"Cloud, it's not that simple. What if we break up? What if it's bad?"

"What if, what if," I turned toward her. "That's all I'm hearing. What if it works?"

"What if… it works…" Tifa breathed, taking a step closer to me. She put her hands on my chest, staring down for a moment, before looking up at me. "Only if you promise me it won't end badly."

"I promise," I said softly.

"Just fuckin' kiss her already, Spikes! Gawwwwddd!"

"Goddammit, Yuffie!" I yelled at the petite Asian girl in the doorway, arms crossed with a big grin on her face. Tifa started laughing.

"Spikes, huh?" she asked, a small smile on her face.

"Yeah. Yuffie's nick name for me. She gives 'em to everyone."

"I like it," Tifa breathed, wrapping her hands in my hair and pulling me in for a kiss.

Fireworks exploded in my mind, and a small rock band began shredding on their guitars in a victory riff.

* * *

><p><strong>AN (4/5/12): Whaaaaat? Two updates in less than two weeks? What kind of sorcery is this?**

**I'm finding more and more motivation to write this story. I have decided to continue this story, using it as a rough draft/first draft, so I can fix names, spelling / grammar errors / overusage of words and plot points (such as the lack of sexual tension between Cloud and Aerith in early chapters). Thank you for your input, and I am happy to oblige giving you guys a free read! Thank you for all of the support, it has constantly given my confidence. I honestly didn't know how this story would be received, and I am so glad that it has gotten the majority of the support that it has! I have honestly kicked around this idea for years and years and never gotten around to actually writing it, but now I'm glad I have.**

**1/4 of the way done. Let's see what shenanigans these characters will continue to get into.**

**I can't say this enough, but thank you to all of the reviewers. I do this for you, not for me. You never have to thank me for updating a chapter, but I can't thank you enough for reading and reviewing.**


	13. Thirteen

**XIII**

_A pair of bright headlights dominated the road, and I pointed stupidly._

_"Zack," I managed to spurt out._

_Time stood still for a second, as Zack looked up, noticing just now that he had drifted into the middle of the road._

_And then…_

_I was jerked wildly, smashing my head against the window as Zack's front left tire smashed into the front right of the large truck, the smaller Camaro spinning wildly across the road._

_Then the flips started._

_Once._

_Twice._

_Three times._

_The windshield shattered, peppering the inside of the car with shrapnel._

_Then, we came to rest._

_Steam leaked from the twisted and warped hood, as fresh blood ran down my face, stinging my eye._

_The world throbbed, nothing quite in focus, as I could see the owner of the truck running toward us, already on his cell phone._

_My vision cleared, briefly. Just long enough to see Zack._

_He was slumped over the steering wheel. Eyes closed as blood ran down his face and collected in a pool on the twisted dashboard._

"_Cloud…" Zack's lips moved. "Cloud… you killed me, Cloud…"_

I sat bolt upright, wincing in pain as my fractured ribs protested the move. Tifa looked up, bleary eyed, from where she slept on my chest.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," I responded, pinching the bridge of my nose. Trying to shake off the last traces of the nightmare, I lied. "Yeah… Just my ribs…"

She leaned over, gently kissing each of the ribs on my right side, before rising up to plant one on my lips.

"Better?" she whispered.

"Better," I responded, deepening the kiss. Tifa swung her leg over my body, straddling me.

A door slammed outside, in the hallway. Tifa broke the kiss off, looking at me fearfully.

"Oh shit," she whispered, looking at her bedside clock. 10:32 a.m.. "Oh shit!"

"What? What's wrong?" I asked, as she shoved me out of bed, leaning over and tossing my boxers and pants at me.

"My Dad is going to kill both of us if he finds you in here," she whispered, standing up and wrapping a sheet around her body.

"I thought you said no one was home!" I frantically searched for my clothes strewn about Tifa's room. She joined in, moving piles of her own clothes to locate mine. I slipped into my shoes, not bothering to take the time pulling my socks on. My shirt was draped over Tifa's vanity, and my jacket was not far away, crumpled on the ground.

"Tifa!" her dad's voice was slightly muffled from the closed door. "We have to go down to the bar and take tally. You almost ready?"

"Yeah, Dad," Tifa called back, finding my tie and walking over toward me."I'll be down in a minute!"

She flung it around my neck as I buttoned up my shirt, pulling me in for a kiss.

"You… have… to… go…" she managed to get out between the meeting of our lips.

"You're not doing a good job of convincing me to leave," I whispered, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. She stepped away, still clutching the sheet around her tightly.

"I'll find a way to get out of here and then I'll drive you home," she said, as I turned, pulling open the window. A sudden thought scorched across my brain. No way was I leaving without doing one final thing. Stepping forward, I took Tifa's hands in mine, interlacing fingers, and pulled them away from her body, delivering one final kiss as her sheet pooled on the ground around her.

I took a step back, eyes roving up and down, drinking in every detail of her perfect, naked body.

"Cloud!" she tried to say angrily, but her smile gave it away. She slapped me playfully on the chest, reaching down to gather the sheet. "Go! Now!"

Ungracefully clambering out the window led to a lower portion of the roof, just ten feet or so above the lush yard. I walked carefully, the new shingles giving me ample grip, but still, couldn't be too careful. Tifa's window was the only one on this side, as I learned that the portion of the roof I stood on was the garage. I lowered myself onto a tall garbage can as gently as I could, before leaping down onto the ground, setting my teeth as pain shot up my side from the impact. I hobbled out onto the street and started walking away from TIfa's house.

Girls called this the walk of shame. Leaving the house or apartment of the guy you slept with the night before, still wearing whatever formal getup you had on the night before. Where everyone who saw you, judged and knew exactly what happened last night. But I had a different idea in mind.

For me, this was the stride of pride. Damn straight I got laid last night! I puffed out my chest, continuing to walk.

Unfortunately, the small town of Nibelheim severely limited people passing by, so I couldn't really be seen by anyone.

A large truck cruised past, kicking it up gravel as it roared down the street, not even bothering to stop at the stop sign at the end. A look over my shoulder revealed a white Jetta speeding from Tifa's house. It slowed down as it approached, and the passenger's side window rolled down. I turned, walking backwards, jokingly sticking out my thumb.

"Goin' my way?"

"I dunno," Tifa teased, trying and failing to hide a smile. "My daddy told me never to pick up strangers… but you're kinda cute. You're not going to murder me and leave me in some 7/11 bathroom, are you?"

"What, kill you?" I said in mock surprise, sliding into the passenger's seat. "In these clothes? I don't think so, sister. You know how far the nearest dry cleaner is?"

She laughed, continuing down the road.

"Denzel's been talking about you."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he said you two were like best friends now," Tifa smiled.

"I wouldn't go that far."

"He said he was going to try out for the football team next year. Once he hits his growth spurt."

I grunted, staring out the window as we left Nibelheim, cruising down the freeway toward Junon. The rest of the ride was mostly silent, as Tifa turned on her radio to the top 40 station. She quietly sang along with her favorite songs, as I rubbed my temples and stared ahead.

What kind of man has a nightmare? It had been almost a year to the day since Zack died, and now I was getting nightmares?

Goddamn.

I directed Tifa through the winding streets of Junon, leading her eventually to the apartment. I had left my truck here the night before, opting to have Yuffie pick me up instead. She slowed to a stop in front of my building.

"Thanks," I said, looking at her. "You're not gonna get in trouble?"

"I told my Dad I left my camera at the country club," she responded. "I think I have another forty minutes until he gets suspicious."

A ghost of a smile flickered on my lips.

"Bye," she leaned over, kissing me softly.

"See you later," I replied, letting myself out. I waved as Tifa sped away, heading back toward Nibelheim. Turning toward the apartment building, I entered the lobby, getting a few looks from some tenants that were leaving the building. The elevator slid open as I approached and the red headed girl from last week stepped out.

"Hey, you," she looked up from texting, looking me up and down, taking in my wrinkled and unkempt suit. To be honest, I was doing the same thing. She looked damn good in those short shorts and tank top. "You look like you had a fun night."

"… Yeah, it was alright…" I said, scratching the back of my head nervously. She gave me a knowing smile and pushed past me, leaving the apartment complex and jogging down the street. Shaking my head, I stepped into the elevator and hit the button with my knuckle. She was friendly, no doubt about that, and very pretty. She lived on my floor, but I still hadn't caught her name.

Fishing my keys out of my pocket, I walked to my door, unlocking it and stepping inside my apartment. The first thing I heard was Mom laugh. Really hard, and a self-assured male voice speaking, the words lost in Mom's laughter.

"Mom?" I walked into the living room, and saw none other than Cid Highwind sitting on the couch, gesturing as he finished the story he was telling Mom, who clutched her sides in mirth.

"Mister Strife," Cid said, getting to his feet and shaking my hand, as I stood there bewildered. "I was just waiting for you."

"What are you doing here, Coach Highwind?"

"Cloud," Mom whispered loudly, so that even Cid could hear it loudly. She still treated it like a secret though. "He wants to pay for you to play football."

What?

"I'm… sorry?" I raised an eyebrow as Cid opened his leather portfolio, handing me a piece of paper. It was a printout of an ESPN article.

"I'm taking over as C.D.S.U.'s head coach next year," Cid told me as I read those words on the page. "I want you to come quarterback for me."

My brain shorted out.

"Me?"

I had never dreamed of this happening. Well, I had dreams of playing football at the next level, of course, but I had never thought about this part. About someone coming into your living room and telling you he had the power to make something you've dreamed about since you can remember a reality. It was a bit hard to grasp. I half expected to wake up. Not even in Tifa's bed. That was part of the dream too.

"I pride myself on my eye for talent, Strife," Cid said. "So called experts are so enamored with that pretty boy Sephiroth that they can't see you. You're smart; I've never seen anyone your age read a defense like you do. You know what they're bringing at you before the snap, and that's a rare talent, son. You can't teach that. Pardon my French, Mrs. Strife, but I don't give a fuck what those shit heads say. It doesn't take quick feet or a good arm to create a winning quarterback, any idiot can pick up a football and learn how to throw it. Being a good quarterback takes a certain something. An 'it' factor, if you will. And you got it in spades, Cloud."

"I… I need to think about this," I said, shakily sitting down in an armchair. "This is a lot to take in right away, you know?"

"Well, no shit, kid," Cid grunted. "I don't expect you to say yes today. I have a few things I want you to work on, and a few more things to talk to you about, but we'll put that all aside for now. I want you to come visit C.D.S.U. next weekend. Come see a game, meet the team. I'll break down what the next few steps are at that time. What do ya' say?"

This was moving really fast. I nodded dumbly. My thoughts finally got in order. If he was trying to strong arm me into the position, I could always say no. It wouldn't hurt to go check out what they had to work with, after all.

"Yeah, that'd be nice."

"Terrific," Cid clapped, reaching in his folder again and handing me an airplane ticket. "It's a puddle jumper, but it'll get ya' there in an hour, rather than driving for six or so. I'll have some players pick you up at the airport and show you around until I can meet you."

"Sounds good," I said, avoiding eye contact with Cid.

* * *

><p>Monday and Tuesday came and went without much to note. School, practice, work. Same shit, different day.<p>

But then Wednesday came.

It was after practice, I had already showered and changed and was halfway across the parking lot when I heard him call my name.

"Cloud? Cloud Strife? Can I talk to you for a moment?"

A quick look over my shoulder took him in. A navy blue blazer with subtle pinstripes was over a white button up tucked into a dark pair of jeans. His long, slicked back blonde hair was in sharp contrast to the thick-rimmed black glasses he wore. A feeling of cool confidence exuded from him like an aura.

"My name is Lazard, I was hoping to speak to you for a few moments," he said, a Midgar accent heavy on his words.

"About what?"

"I'm actually a first year staff writer at _Sports Illustrated_," he said, approaching me. "I want to write a story on you and the Nibelheim program."

I blinked. I'm not that interesting, who would want to read a story on me? I mean, the Nibelheim paper is one thing, but not an extremely famous magazine like _Sports Illustrated._ Who in Midgar or Junon or Wutai gives a shit about me?

"I actually have to be at work in twenty minutes," I told him, jerking my thumb over to my truck.

"Oh, that's no problem at all," he quickly countered. "I'll just go with you!"

I could tell there was no getting rid of this guy until I told him what he wanted, so I nodded, threw my duffle bag and backpack into the bed of my truck, and hopped in the cab. Lazard ran back to his rental car and followed me out of the parking lot and toward the Tastee Freeze.

While I worked, Lazard would ask me questions. Only if there were no customers around, though. He would listen politely and ask a few clarifying questions in between scribbles on his notebook. He asked rather tame questions, at first. How do you like school? What's it like growing up in a small town? What did I want to do when I grew up?

"As a quieter, shyer person, how did it feel to be… thrust into a leadership role after the death of Zack Fair?"

You mean after I killed him? The bitter thought raced across my mind, the nightmare I had last weekend still fresh. I was silent for a long time before I finally spoke, and I was sure as shit surprised my voice was level and calm.

"It was hard, y'know? I mean, here people are with the greatest thing to happen to football since its inception, and then, in an instant, poof. He's gone," I said, not looking at Lazard, although I could feel his eyes following my every move. "And then people are stuck with me. It was a rollercoaster. One week, everyone loved me, the next, everyone hated me. I wasn't ready for it… in fact, I still don't know if I am."

"You don't seem to have a very high opinion of yourself, Cloud," Lazard said. "Even though you're one of ESPN's top 100 high school players, as well as listed as one of the premiere dual threat quarterbacks in the nation. You're smart, fast and a hell of a QB."

"The only thing that matters is helping my team win," I looked up. "And I've done a halfway lousy job at that so far."

Lazard nodded, and scrawled something across his notebook. He concluded the interview with a few creampuff questions, shook my hand and said goodbye.

"I'll see you again," he said, a twinkle in his eye. "And look out for the magazine; it should be dropping next month."

He pushed his way out of the small restaurant and, like that, Lazard was gone.

* * *

><p>The game on Friday was actually one of the few we were penciled in to win. The East Midgar team was atrocious. By halftime, I had thrown four touchdowns and ran another in. I didn't even play a down in the second half, as Kunsel lead us to victory 49-0. The kid needed a game like that, to build up some confidence.<p>

The lights of Costa del Sol sprawled out beneath me, as I stared at the collection of pinpricks in the darkness and tried to guess what each building was. There were only three of us on the plane, not counting the pilots and flight attendant. A tired looking businessman folded up his paper and leaned his head back, while a 20-something blonde girl continued to bob her head to the music her iPod was playing.

I tried to control my stomach as the plane descended and approached the airport. I may have slightly panicked when the plane bounced off of its wheels, the seconds we floated in the air seemed like an eternity before we landed and slowed to a stop. Unbuckling my seatbelt with trembling hands, I breathed a sigh of relief.

I survived my first plane ride.

After the game, I literally took a shower and hopped in my truck and drove to the airport. The Fairs had taken Mom for the weekend, allowing me free rein to experience all C.D.S.U. had to offer without worry. I knew I couldn't jump to rash conclusions, just because these guys got me to visit first didn't mean I was going to sign with them. Besides, C.D.S.U. had dropped from a perennial powerhouse to a bottom feeder in a matter of four years. They won six games last year, and so far, they've won three this year.

"There he is!" called a voice when I left the terminal.

None other than Reno Miller and Rude Richardson were waiting for me. Reno had his goofy grin plastered across his face, while Rude actually had a small smile on his face as well. I stepped forward, shaking their hands, as they led me out of the building.

"Coach Highwind thought you might want some familiar faces picking you up," Reno said, lighting a cigarette as soon as we were outside. "And showing you around, of course. Shit yeah, we about to get fucked up!"

"What about all the football stuff?" I asked, as Reno got into an argument with the driver about having his cigarette in the car.

"Tomorrow," Rude said, climbing into the front seat, as Reno finally flung his cigarette away and got into the back with me.

"Take us to the Football House!" he yelled.

It was too dark to get a good feel for the campus, as drunk people stumbled every which way. It was a Friday night in one of the biggest party schools in America, after all. The Football House was actually a pair of identical houses, built back to back, with a large, fenced in backyard between the two of them. It was a little behind Greek Row, the large fraternities and sororities dwarfing these houses.

We stepped out of the official car, and all I could hear were voices. People laughing, swearing, yelling. It drowned out the bumping of the music coming from, what seemed to be, every house in this neighborhood.

We entered the house. It was rather quiet, and a little empty. Of course, they had a game tomorrow, but that didn't stop some of the players. I looked around, noticing people playing beer pong, chugging beers and snorting lines of cocaine off of the coffee table. There weren't many here, but there was more than I would like.

Not a good first impression.

Reno walked behind the large, homemade bar, pouring three beers out of the built-in tap, while Rude poured us three shots. They offered me one of each.

"Don't y'all have a game tomorrow?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Nah, man, Rude's a redshirt, and I don't ever kick. We got some Chinese-"

"Puerto Rican," Rude corrected.

"Whatever, Pueto Rican kicker. So I don't do shit!" Reno laughed, lifting his shot in a cheer. "To our good buddy Cloud. Down the hatch, amigo!"

We threw our shots back, chugging the beers quickly. Reno burped loudly, throwing his arm around me and showing me around the room.

"Alright, let me point out our more… distinguished patrons," Reno said, pointing to various people around the room. He started with an incredibly buff guy playing beer pong. His shoulder length black hair pulled back. "That's Angeal. He's a linebacker. A sophomore, I think. He's pretty straight laced and hella good. He's only here tonight because of his buddy, Genesis. A receiver."

He gestured to the guy next to Angeal with bushy brown hair. He was nearly falling over as he shot his ball.

"That tall, scrawny guy in the corner? His name's Biggs," Reno swung me around. "He's a freshman receiver, but he's redshirting this year. And that fine piece of ass he's talking to is his twin sister, Jessie."

They did look remarkably similar. Reno practically licked his lips.

"What I would give to kick it between her uprights," he muttered before looking at me. "And by uprights, I mean sticking my penis inside of her. Let's continue!"

The last person he pointed out was an Asian guy hunched on the couch, a smoking bong in one hand and a fifth of something in his other. A pair of girls were draped across him.

"That's Tseng," Reno said, smile falling off his face. "He's the incumbent QB."

"Is he graduating?"

"No, he's only a redshirt junior, he's got two years of eligibility left."

"Coach Highwind told me he wanted me to start if I came here," I told Reno. Did he lie about that? Reno shrugged.

"I have no doubt in my mind that you could beat Tseng out. This school was the only one he got an offer from… you'll find that about most of the older guys."

"What do you mean?" I asked, but before Reno could answer, a pair of girls came up to me, wrapping their arms around me and running their fingers through my hair. I grit my teeth and dealt with the stabbing pain in my side.

"I don't recognize you, cutie," one of them breathed. The stink of alcohol was pungent. If she breathed near an open flame, I'm sure the results would be catastrophic.

"Actually, Cloud is deciding on whether or not he wants to come here," Reno said, a huge smile cracking on his face. "Maybe you ladies could… convince him?"

"Is he good?" one of them asked Reno.

Oh God. I have a feeling I know where this is going…

"The best."

Apparently this was a satisfactory answer, as they each took one of my hands, leading me out of the room. I gave Reno a look of panic, who simply flashed a pair of thumbs up in response. My heart started thumping madly, and despite my best efforts of self control, Southern Cloud shifted slightly as they led me up the stairs.

"Ladies," I managed to get out when we were halfway up the stairs. "I'm sorry, but I have a girlfriend."

"So?" one of the girls asked, smiling mischievously. "I don't see her here."

"Yeah, come on, Claude. It feels so good to be bad…"

"… Cloud," I corrected. "My name is Cloud."

"Hi, baby!" came a cheerful, girly voice from behind me. I turned to see Jessie, a big smile plastered across her face. Oh God, not her too. "I was looking for you! You said you were going to get a drink and disappeared!"

"I… What?"

"Thank you for giving my boyfriend a tour of the house," Jessie said to the girls, taking my hand and leading me downstairs. The girls stared after us in shock and disgust. Jessie dragged me through the party, just as Reno looked up from pouring himself a drink on the bar.

"Aww, come on! That's not fair!" he shouted as Jessie led me by the hand out into the backyard.

"Thanks," I said as Jessie let go of my hand.

"I wasn't going to let you do something immoral. At least, not on your first night here," she laughed.

"Well, you saved me from probably two STD's."

"Try six," the lanky receiver, Biggs, spoke up as he approached.

"Well, if we're dating now, I should probably introduce myself," I laughed, extending a hand. "Cloud."

"Jessie."

"Biggs," the man said, shaking my hand. His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at me. "You're Cloud Strife, aren't you?"

"Uh, yeah, yeah I am."

"Sweet!" Biggs laughed, clapping his hands. "I've been watching your highlight tapes on YouTube and stuff! You're awesome!"

"Thanks, man," I said, a little bit surprised. I hadn't expected anyone to have ever heard of me, let alone watch what I did. Wasn't it just a year ago that people in my own school didn't pay attention to me?

"Look, what you see at the game tomorrow," Biggs gave a quick look at Jessie. "Don't… judge us too badly, okay?"

"What do you mean?"

"We're not very good, Cloud," Jessie spoke up as Biggs nervously scratched his ear. "That's the reason the current coach is being forced out and Highwind is taking over. His recruiting was terrible. He left us with nearly nothing, you're the highest rated recruit we've had express interest in C.D.S.U. since the late '90's."

"I haven't expressed interest," I muttered, scratching the back of my head. "They were the first school to show interest in me, so I figured I'd stop by for a weekend."

I don't think that was the answer they wanted to hear.

* * *

><p>The next day, I stood on the sidelines, wearing a field pass around my neck, watching the C.D.S.U. Chocobos get utterly annihilated by the University of South Corel Mountaineers. I watched Cid rub his head in frustration, bite his nails, scream, rant and curse at his players, but still, the Chocobos rolled over and died, 62-0. Tseng threw several interceptions, and managed a measly 119 yards the entire game. Each time he walked off the field, a cascade of boos echoed down from the stands in this small stadium. It was initially packed with drunken, wild students, however as the game continued, their numbers dwindled until only three sections remained filled.<p>

The final whistle from the official was a mercy, as both teams trotted off the field, U.S.C. not wanting to celebrate the dismantling of a pathetic team. Cid walked over to me, gesturing with his head to follow him. He didn't say a word as we strode through the tunnel, avoiding the sweaty and dejected C.D.S.U. players.

We entered the athletic building and walked straight to his office, where Cid slammed the door and unleashed a stream of profanity so vulgar it would make a sailor blush.

He slumped at his desk, lighting a cigarette. I looked around the room, noticing the numerous memorabilia he had around. The Rocket Town Tech jersey he wore in the Materia Bowl National Championship was framed and displayed prominently on the wall. Numerous framed pictures surrounded it, but the centerpiece was on a small filing cabinet directly behind Cid's desk.

The Heisman trophy he won.

"Sorry you had to see that," Cid grunted, puffing away on his cigarette. "We looked like a bunch of fuckin' retards tryin' to hump a fuckin' doorknob. Not exactly the game you want the savior of your program to watch."

Savior?

"I've been quietly rebuilding this team for the past few years," Cid stubbed out his cigarette as I sunk into the chair across his desk. "Getting a few recruits here and there, overshadowed, of course, by the crap that was brought in by other members of this staff. The receiver, Biggs, and your buddy Rude were my pickups. But this class… this class is my first full recruiting class."

I tried to play nonchalant, but my heart was thumping madly.

"I want you to headline this class, Cloud."

Me? As a headline? Did he really think that Cloud Strife could be the name that everyone mentioned when they spoke about C.D.S.U.?

"You can be the face of this school," Cid continued. "The old fucks on this team, they're all leaving. This team is going to be yours. You can shape it how you want it, if it fails or succeeds it will be because of you."

"I…" I swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. "That's a lot of pressure. I've never done anything like that, what makes you think I can?"

"Bullshit. You already have. Look at your team this year, how you have brought them back from the precipice of the abyss. That's you, man, that's not the rest of your team getting lucky; you have singlehandedly made Nibelheim High School relevant again."

I didn't know what to say.

"I told you that you have the 'it' factor. It goes beyond how far you can throw the ball or how fast you can run," Cid stared into my eyes. "Despite all of my talent, all of my accolades, I never had 'it'. That's why I have taken such a liking to you, Strife. More so than any of the other quarterbacks coming out of high school. You may not be the most talented, but you play with the most heart. You leave it all out on the field. You play the game with such an overwhelming desire to win, it blows my mind."

No one had ever complimented me so much in my life. Once again, several conflicting emotions raged inside of me. Was he just saying this to get me to sign? Or did he really take this large of an interest in my career? What if he was right? What if he was wrong?

I must have been quiet for a long time, so Cid eventually broke the silence by clearing his throat.

"Like I said in your house, you don't have to commit today," he opened a drawer and fished inside for a moment, before pulling out a handwritten list. He slid it across the desk to me. "Here's a list of things I broke down from your game film, improve on that stuff and you'll have to beat colleges off with a bat. Just think about what I said, Cloud."

"Thanks," I said, reading the short list. Footwork, looking off defenders… leadership? That one was underlined several times. "For everything, Coach."

"I'll be in touch."


End file.
